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k» 


THE FRIGHTENED ANIMAL PLUNGED INTO THE ROOM.” (Set 

page 56.) 



AN EVERY-DAY GIRL 


BY / 

MARY CATHERINE CROWLEY, 

Author of “ Merry Hearts and True,” " Happy-Go-Lucky 
"Apples Ripe and Rosy," “ 77itf OVy of Wonders," 

" Short Stories," etc. 



New York, Cincinnati, Chicaooi 

BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 

1900. 


COPIES RECEIVED, 

Library of Coogroe% 

Offl«o of tha 


MAR 2 6 1900 


$*gt*tor of Copyrights 



IN THE SAME SERIES. 


Each volume handsomely bound in cover 
\ with colored design, ibmo , 40 cents. 6 vols. 
in a box , $ 2.40 . 

A HOSTAGE OF WAR. By Mary G. Bone- 

STEEL. 

FRED’S LITTLE DAUGHTER. By Sara 
Trainer Smith. 

AN EVERY-DAY GIRL. By Mary Cather- 
ine Crowley. 

JACK-O’-LANTERN. By Mary T. Wagga - 


MAN. 


PAULINE ARCHER. By Anna T. Sadlier. 


PANCHO AND PANCHITA. By Mary E. 
Mannix. 



'\AA J ev\£, V-A- 

\ ^ O Ov 


Copyright, 1899, by Benziger Brothers. 


SECOND COPY. 


To 


Bilan Cameron, 

The kindest of Uncles and 
best of Friends. 




CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I. 

An Awakening 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Tessie in Charge 16 

CHAPTER III. 

A Telegram and a Visitor 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Cooking Class 39 

CHAPTER V. 

Two Young Hostesses 48 

CHAPTER VI. 

Miss Langdon’s School 60 

CHAPTER VII. 

Mart Ren wick 70 

5 


6 


Contents. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

Mother's Welcome Home. 85 

CHAPTER IX. 

SlGNORINA AND PRINCESS 96 

CHAPTER X. 

An Aboriginal Celebration 103 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Literary Club 118 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Growth of the Brambles 134 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Queen’s Lace Handkerchief 145 

CHAPTER XIV. 

An Indian Sphinx 156 

CHAPTER XV. 

Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery 169 

CHAPTER XVI. 

A Choice of Heroines 177 


AN EYERY-DAY GIRL. 


CHAPTER I. 

AN AWAKENING. 

“ Of course you will go,” said Mr. Marron, 
as his wife finished reading aloud a letter re- 
ceived by the afternoon mail. 

“ Oh, dear, no ! — how can I ? ” and, with a 
light laugh, the lady glanced towards the 
group of children gathered around the sitting- 
room table, and thought of her many home 
duties. 

“ What is it, mother ? ” asked Tessie, her 
eldest daughter, who entered the room just in 
time to catch the last words. 

“ Your Aunt Emily writes that she and 
father insist upon my paying them a visit in 
New York. They are to he at the Fifth 


8 


An Awakening. 


Avenue Hotel for the winter, and she wants 
me to start on Thursday.” 

Tessie appeared a trihe dazed. Mother to 
go off by herself for a holiday, and leave all 
care behind ? Such a project had never been 
heard of within her recollection. 

“ I shall answer the letter to-night,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Marron, “ and remind Emily I am 
a staid materfamilias, and cannot pack my 
trunk and start on a tour as independently as 
she, a spinster of comfortable fortune.” 

“ Why should you do anything of the 
kind ? ” objected her husband. “ You ought 
to go; you have not seen your father and sister 
since their return from Europe — you will meet 
many of your old friends, too, and, above all, 
the change will do you good.” 

The blithe little woman regarded him with 
astonishment. 

“ It is out of the question, my dear,” she 
reasoned; “ who would keep house, and look 
after May and Toosie and the boys ? ” 

“ Tessie, to be sure. The Christmas vaca- 
tion is but begun; this is your opportunity.” 

“ The poor child has had no experience; I 
am afraid she would never get along.” 

“It is a pretty how d’ye do if a girl of 
sixteen has not learned to help her mother,” 
Mr. Marron rejoined, taking up his newspaper. 

Tessie’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes filled 
with tears. She suddenly realized that if she 
had been more interested in household mat- 


Ail Awakening. 


9 


ters she might have been of much assistance 
in many little ways. 

“ Tessie is a ' good girl,” the considerate 
mother hastened to say, “ but with her studies 
and music she has no time for other occupa- 
tions.” 

“ She should be able to make herself use- 
ful.” 

“ I might try,” ventured Tessie, in a dep- 
recating manner. 

“Yes, do try, my daughter,” encouraged 
her father, mollified at once. “We will all 
endeavor to make it easy for you, and mother 
shall have her happy holiday.” 

Mrs. Marron demurred a while longer, but 
finally, half lest Tessie might be considered re- 
miss in any duty, she yielded to the loving ar- 
guments of the family, and an hour later sent 
a reply to Aunt Emily accepting the invita- 
tion. 

The Marrons lived in one of the beautiful 
cities of the interior of New York State. 
Their home, which stood in the centre of a 
garden, was an old-fashioned two-storied 
Dutch structure, built of the brownstone 
abounding in the vicinity; the fagade was 
covered with white stucco, in the long, slop- 
ing roof were quaint dormer casements, and 
high up at the side of the building were two 
tiny “ windowlets,” as Tessie named them, 
because they measured only ten by eighteen 
inches. These last gave light to the garret — a 


10 


An Awakening. 


perfect museum of curiosities. They looked 
like a pair of spectacles, and shadowed by the 
moss-grown eaves suggested a resemblance to 
an antiquated Holland dame in fantastic head- 
dress, peering through her glasses at the 
passers-by. 

Below were square sashes with small panes, 
and wooden shutters once white, but now 
painted a dark green. Along the front of the 
house, and giving it a sociable air, extended 
a vine-covered veranda with a low baluster and 
broad benches. A bricked walk led, in the 
straightest of straight lines, up the distance of 
a few rods from the gate to the single step of 
this veranda. Crossing the latter, the visitor 
stood before a green door ornamented by a 
brass knocker — the grotesque head of an ani- 
mal “ never seen on sea or land.” It was a 
curious door, divided horizontally, and in 
spring or summer the upper half was always 
open, affording from without a glimpse of a 
low studded hall, and the pleasant parlor on 
the right or the sitting-room to the left, with 
their wade chimney caverns filled in perhaps 
with branches of apple-blossoms, or that shrub 
of furzy, feathery bloom aptly known as the 
“ smoke-tree.” 

“ A shabby old house,” Tessie often pro- 
nounced it, as compared with the more 
modem residences of her friends. She did 
not appreciate its picturesque charm, and 
could not understand why an artist once asked 


An Awakening. 


11 


permission to sketch it, nor why, one morn- 
ing, a tourist party of amateur photographers 
pointed their cameras at it from every quarter, 
like so many cannon directed towards an an- 
cient fort. 

But mother was going away, and what an 
excitement there was in helping on her prep- 
arations ! 

u Dear me, mother ! ” declared the young 
girl, as she attempted to lend her aid with the 
packing, “ I am afraid Aunt Emily will think 
you are not a hit stylish. Why don’t you 
have pretty gowns and wraps like other girls’ 
mothers ? This season, for instance, Mrs. 
Gaines wears a handsome black silk gown half 
covered with jet, a natty sealskin jacket, and 
a little round hat. Her hair is curled in short, 
soft rings about her face, and she looks so 
young one would never suppose she had a tall 
daughter like Laura. I am sure she would 
always be ready, as far as her wardrobe is con- 
cerned, for a trip to the ends of the earth. 
Why did not you get a black silk ? Father 
wanted you to have it, but you do not seem to 
care for such things at all.” 

Mrs. Marron smiled a trifle wistfully. She 
did not consider it necessary to explain that 
the money intended for the rich gown went to 
nay the music-teacher, and for the painting- 
lessons Tessie was so anxious to have because 
several of her friends belonged to the class. 
Yet perhaps a suspicion approaching the 


12 


An Awakening. 


truth flashed upon the young girl, as she took 
from a bandbox her mother's bonnet, home- 
made and tasteful, but lacking in the illusive 
quality termed chic , so seldom bestowed save 
by the trained milliner. For the first time she 
was struck by the difference between it and 
her own modish hat trimmed with ostrich 
plumes, bought at the most fashionable estab- 
lishment in town. 

“ Mother dear,” she said softly, “ you always 
sacrifice yourself for us. How selfish I have 
been not to see that you buy the prett} r things 
for me and for the little girls, instead of for 
yourself.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” returned Mrs. Marron, “ I 
have good children and all I need besides;” 
but she looked pleased at the evidence of ap- 
preciation. 

When the appointed day arrived, and the 
beloved traveller came down-stairs ready for 
the journey, Tessie, despite her previous 
criticism, concluded that her mother made a 
better appearance than Mrs. Gaines, after all. 
For her simple costume was exquisitely neat, 
and although the most retiring of women, Mrs. 
Marron was distinguished by the indescribable 
air of refinement that comes of gentle 
thoughts as well as gentle manners, and which 
fashionable attire alone can never give. 

What affectionate leave-takings there were 
in the hall ! May and Toosie clung to her 
until the last minute; Joe and Ben were sol- 


An Awakening. 


18 


emn and glum. They had anticipated “ jolly 
larks ” during her absence, but now when she 
was actually about to start the prospect did 
not seem so pleasant, and they wondered 
rather dolefully “ what home would be like 
without mother.” 

“ Good-by, ” she said. “ Write to me, boys, 
and do not get into mischief. Little girls, you 
will try to be good, I am sure. Be careful they 
do not take cold, Tessie. Good-by, my daugh- 
ter. Keep a brave heart and remember you 
are being a real help to me.” The next mo- 
ment Mr. Marron handed her into the carriage 
waiting at the gate, stepped in after her, and 
presently it rolled away amid a weaving of 
handkerchiefs and followed by farewell cheers 
from the boys, a piping echo from May, and a 
wail from little Toosie. 

Tessie folded her lips tightly together and 
determined not to give way in the least bit to 
loneliness, because “ mamma would not like 
it.” With a soothing word she drew Toosie 
into the house, May following close. Shutting 
the door, she seated herself upon the cosy sofa 
in the hall, and drawing them down beside her 
among its pillows told them a wonderful fairy 
story. Toosie's spirits rose like a toy balloon, 
May listened with shining eyes, and at the 
conclusion the two children ran away laugh- 
ing merrily to tease Delia, the cook, for gin- 
ger-cakes, and feast with the dolls in the play 
room. The boys had promptly betaken them- 


14 


An Awakening. 


selves to the wood-shed, where they were en- 
gaged in some mysterious carpentering. 

“ Delia is my consolation ! ” soliloquized 
Tessie, as she heard the good woman’s cheery 
voice repeating: “ Cookies, is it ? Sure, me 
darlin’s, in coorse ye shall have them.” 
Another time she might have said, “Be off 
with yez ! Don’t be askin’ me to stop in me 
work,” and they would scamper away, coming 
hack almost immediately to find a small pile of 
cookies lying as if by accident upon a corner 
of the kitchen table, while Delia, busier than 
ever, rattled away at the dishes in the pantry, 
“ putting the shelves to rights.” 

But this was an extraordinary occasion. 
“ Poor dears, they miss their mother,” she re- 
flected : and ginger-cakes having always 
proved a solace for their childish griefs, she 
gave them three in each 'hand now, and filled 
the little pockets of their frocks besides. 

Delia was that rara avis among domestic 
auxiliaries, “ a treasure.” She had lived with 
the Marrons ever since Tessie was a baby and 
everybody agreed “ they thought the world of 
her.” It was furthermore hinted she could 
never get along anywhere else, since she did 
not like interference in her special domain, 
was not slow in expressing her mind if any- 
thing displeased her, and sometimes volun- 
teered advice in household matters. The 
younger members of the family managed to 
steer clear of Delia’s peculiarities, however. 


An Awakening . 


15 


and Mrs. Marron had a way of quietly over- 
ruling her whims and humors when necessary, 
while remembering there were to he weighed 
against them years of faithful service and a 
devotedness that had never failed. 


CHAPTER II. 


TESSIE IN CHARGE. 

Mrs. Marron would not have decided upon 
the visit to New York hut for her confidence 
in Delia. She knew this faithful domestic 
helper would keep the household machinery 
running smoothly; Tessie’s principal obliga- 
tion would be to look after the two small chil- 
dren a little, and try to keep the boys out of 
“ scrapes ”; to be ready with a smiling face 
for breakfast with her father in the morning, 
and to welcome him when he came home from 
his counting-room at noon, and after the cares 
of the day. 

“ I shall say a prayer every morning that I 
may be faithful to every duty which presents 
itself,” the young girl resolved in the quiet of 
her own room the evening after her mothers 
departure; then, looking up at a favorite pic- 
ture of the dear Madonna of the little home 
of Nazareth, she added softly: <c I will strive 
to be gentle, self-forgetful, and loving, as She 
was.” 

For nearly a week everything went beauti- 
fully. The boys were remarkably well-be- 
haved. One of their Christmas presents had 
16 


Tessie in Charge. 


17 


been a miniature stationary engine, that could 
get np real steam and go “ like thunder,” Ben 
averred. Naturally much of their time was 
spent in experimenting with it. May and 
Toosie were as docile and sweet as possible. 
Tessie could always insure their obedience by 
the promise of a story. Delia made all com- 
fortable, dinner was never late, Tessie was al- 
ways pleasant. Her father said she was fast 
becoming a model housekeeper and the letters 
to her mother contained only encouraging 
news. 

“ Have a good time, and do not feel obliged 
to hurry home,” wrote Tessie. 

“ Our eldest daughter is managing splen- 
didly,” proudly reported Mr. Marron. 

Laura Gaines had spent Christmas with 
relatives in Albany. The very day she reached 
home she went over to the Marrons’. Tessie, 
catching a glimpse of her from the window, 
ran to the door to admit her, and after a gay 
greeting led her into the sitting-room. 

For a while the two friends chatted volubly, 
both talking at once, yet each keeping the 
thread of the other’s narrative in the marvel- 
lous manner of schoolgirls. At length Laura 
asked: 

“ How do you get along without your 
mother ? How do you ever manage the 
menage ? ” Laura affected French words and 
phrases under the mistaken notion that they 
imparted an elegance to her conversation. 


18 


Tessie in Charge. 


“ Oh, we miss mother, of course, ” replied 
Tessie. “ But it is the easiest matter in the 
world to keep house. I cannot understand 
what some people consider so difficult about 
it. Delia gives the orders to the marketman, 
who calls regularly, and everything goes on as 
serenely as possible. Yes, sometimes the care 
seems to wear upon mother, but I do not mind 
it at all. Indeed, the reality is much like 
* playing house/ as we used to do years ago; 
do not you remember when an empty packing- 
case in the garret was our palatial dwelling, 
and we served sumptuous repasts of sugar- 
plums and peanuts upon a table made of a 
soap-box turned upside down ? ” 

They laughed over the recollection, but 
Laura, was duly impressed. 

“Tessie Marron is the smartest girl I 
know,” she announced later to a number of 
their mutual friends. “ She is keeping house, 
and does not find it a bit of trouble. I could 
never do it, now could you ? ” 

Several of the girls shrugged their shoul- 
ders. They evidently thought themselves 
quite as clever as Tessie, and able to acquit 
themselves as creditably in this respect as in 
all others. Nevertheless, Tessie’s ability 
had actually been put to the test, and, al- 
though they would not have admitted the fact, 
they began to regard her as entitled to con- 
sideration: since she was enjoying a wider ex- 
perience than themselves, and from all ac- 


Tessie in Charge. 


19 

counts knew how to manage as well, if not 
better, than her mother. 

But aU this was too Utopian to last. One 
morning Toosie awoke fretful and cross, 
Tessie lost patience with her, and came flur- 
ried and late to breakfast. The boys were be- 
hind time also, and when they appeared they 
were inopportunely in a glee and refused to 
be suppressed. Mr. Marron, who was ab- 
stracted, and annoyed about business matters, 
spoke to them once or twice. Tessie un- 
wisely tried to make excuses for them in a 
manner that appeared to him pert, and he 
sharply reproved her. 

“ 0 dear ! everything is going wrong to- 
day,” she said to herself, swallowing a queer 
lump in her throat. 

When her father had gone she bustled about 
for half-an-hour, flourishing a rose-colored 
dusting-cloth, and creating a general sem- 
blance of order. May and Toosie (the latter 
was not yet grown up to her real name, 
Jessica) were amusing themselves in the play 
room. The boys had gone out. 

“ Now,” soliloquized the older sister, “ I will 
betake myself to the sitting-room, and finish 
that lovely story I began to read yesterday.” 

An hour passed. Ensconced in her mothers 
sewing-chair, Tessie rocked and read, refresh- 
ing herself now and again with candy she had 
made the day before. The winter sunshine 
flooded the room, the plants on the broad win- 


20 


Tessie in Charge . 


dow ledge wore a brighter green; outside, the 
sparrows hopped to and fro on the frozen lawn 
as gayly as though it were verdant, velvety 
turf; within, the fire of hickory logs on the 
hearth crackled now and again, and burst into 
a new flame. Tessie’s late vexations were for- 
gotten. 

Suddenly there was a sound of some com- 
motion in the garden at the rear of the house, 
and presently Joe’s voice called from the hall: 
“ Tessie, where are you ? Come, quick ! Ben 
has fallen out of a tree and is ’most killed; 
he’s dead, sure ! ” 

Tessie’s heart seemed to give a bound, and 
then to stand still. She was too frightened 
to notice the contradictory nature of the in- 
telligence. Instinctively echoing the fervent 
cry of “ God help us ” with which Delia had 
already rushed out from the kitchen, she fol- 
lowed mechanically. Prone upon the ground 
under the cherry tree was Ben, apparently life- 
less. 

The frightened girl stood looking on in a 
bewildered way, while Delia gathered him up 
in her strong arms, carried him to the house, 
and gently laid him on the sofa in the sitting- 
room. 

“ Whisht, alanna, don’t cry!” whispered the 
resourceful woman; “ I doubt if it is really 
sinseless he is — only a bit bewildered like, 
and a good bit scared. Fetch cold water and 
open the windows so as to give him air. Don’t 


Tessie in Charge. 


21 


crowd around him, children; you, Joe, quit 
endeavoring to get him to speak and be off 
for Dr. Shaw as fast as you can.” 

J oe needed no second bidding, but vanished 
precipitately. 

“ Bun away to the play room, little ones,” 
said Tessie peremptorily. 

May and Toosie went unwillingly and in 
high dudgeon; they were too alarmed to dis- 
obey. Then Tessie, having brought the water, 
stood by helplessly, while Delia sprinkled some 
of it on Ben’s face and bathed his head. This 
treatment and the fresh air blowing in at the 
window soon revived him. By the time the 
doctor arrived he was sitting bolt upright on 
the sofa, feeling of his arms and legs “ to 
make sure they were all there,” he explained. 

u You have done just what was best,” said 
Dr. Shaw, turning to the anxious attendants 
after a careful examination of the patient. 
“ Ben, you rogue, do not try any such ground 
and lofty tumbling again. But you are all 
right, I think. 

“ The result might indeed have been seri- 
ous,” he said to Delia, who accompanied him 
to the door, “ but by a happy providence the 
boy, as far as can be judged at present, has 
suffered no injury to the brain, and he has 
also escaped without any broken bones. Keep 
a special eye on him for a few days, however, 
and send for me if he appears in any way dif- 
ferent from usual.” 


22 


Tessie in Charge . 


“ A special eye ! ” repeated Delia to herself, 
as she returned to the room; “and the other 
eye must be upon the cherubs, as their father 
jestingly calls the two little girls. Sure, I'd 
need a hundred eyes to keep track of all the 
pranks of these children — blessings on them 
all the same, though they do pester me, and 
no mistake ! ” 

As Ben evinced no symptoms but those of 
plotting mischief, which were assuredly not 
unusual, Tessie, overjoyed as she was at his 
preservation, gave way after a while to her 
overwrought emotions: 

“ Well, Ben Marron ! ” she began. “ What 
did you expect to find up a cherry tree this 
time of the year ? Neither fruit nor birds' 
eggs, certainly; even the squirrels that emi- 
grated there w r hen the old hickory tree was 
cut down 'have been hunted out long ago.” 

“Oh,” interposed Joe, who, as his brother 
was kept indoors, loitered around the house 
all the afternoon, “we were climbing for 
practise. I dared Ben to go out on a little 
limb near the top of the tree, and he did. The 
limb was dead, you see, though we did not 
know it, and he came down plumperty-plump ! 
He ought not to have taken the dare, you 
know.” 

“ It is you who ought not to have dared a 
fellow,” growled Ben, looking as though he 
would like to argue the question with his 
fists. 


Tessie in Charge. 


23 


“ Stop, both of you ! No one must say 
another word about it,” directed his sister, 
with an assumption of authority, at which the 
boys exchanged a glance of amused protest 
that immediately effected a reconciliation be- 
tween them. 

* * * * 

A few days after this escapade had created 
such alarm in the Marron household, the 
town awoke one morning to find the ground 
covered with snow, the first of the New 
Year. The boys and the two little girls were 
jubilant. 

“ It came just because we wanted it ! ” cried 
Toosie, with childish self-conceit. 

By midday the sun shone forth through the 
clouds, and early in the afternoon the two 
little children were trotting around the gar- 
den, laughing at their footprints in the snow 
and, in their pretty gray and red coats, re- 
minding Tessie of a pair of belated robins as 
they flitted hither and thither. 

It was hard work dragging their sleds, how- 
ever; they grew tired, and with a tacit agree- 
ment that they would go stand at the front 
gate and watch the passers-by (their usual oc- 
cupation when waiting for some other diver- 
sion to turn up), they w r ent around the corner 
of the house. Here an unexpected source of 
pleasure awaited them. From the roof of the 
veranda the fast-melting snow dripped in a 
steady rain. 


24 


Tessie in Charge . 


“ Let us stay here and catch the bright 
drops as they come down,” exclaimed May. 

“ Oh, yes, it will be great sport,” agreed 
Toosie. 

So the two stood under the shower, holding 
out their chubby hands for the sunlit drops 
that were beautiful as jewels. 

“It is like acting out one of Tessie’s fairy 
stories,” May declared. “ Here are diamonds 
and pearls falling, falling all the time, only 
they slip through our fingers so we are never 
able to keep any.” 

Blithe little May had yet to learn the differ- 
ence between fairyland and reality. In real 
life we have to work for our treasures; if we 
merely stand and wait for them, catching at 
everything that gleams before us, it will be to 
find our hands empty in the end. 

But the roof continued to send down this 
illusive wealth upon them, embroidering with 
sparkling gems the gay coats and rakish hoods 
in prodigal profusion. Tessie, skimming 
through another fascinating story, heard the 
children’s shouts of merriment. “ How happy 
they are ! ” she murmured, without looking 
up from her book. 

Yet even holding out their hands for jewels 
to fall into them became monotonous after a 
while to these restless small folk. 

“ Play I was a steam-car, and I came along 
and ran over you,” suggested May, casting 
about for a new game. 


Tessie in Charge . 


25 


“ No ! ” objected Toosie. “ Play I was a 
whale, and came right up out of this puddle 
and swallowed you.” 

“ The steam-car is better,” persisted the 
older midget, rumfing up against her small 
sister with some force. 

To Toosie’s ready ‘fancy May’s sturdy little 
figure, and round, rosy face, suddenly assumed 
the gigantic proportions of a great, black, 
snorting monster, menacing her with destruc- 
tion. 

“ Oh, my ! ” she shrieked, with a ridiculous 
but unfeigned fear. “ I am run over, I am run 
over ! Oh — oo — oh — oo ! ” 

May paused in indecision. Then the 
thought of how terrible it would be if Toosie 
were indeed run over by a train presented 
itself with all the vividness of an actual occur- 
rence. In an absurd fright at being, as she 
imagined, the cause of this dire calamity, 
she forthwith screamed, too, with all her 
might: 

“ Ow, ow ! Toosie is run over, and I did it, 
’cause I was a steam-car; but I couldn’t help 
it, for the big whale was going to eat me up ! 
Ow, ow ! ” 

Their cries rose to the windows of Tessie’s 
room, and in a flutter of anxiety she rushed 
down the stairs and out of the house. There, 
under the eaves of the veranda, stood the two 
little girls, their dainty coats and hoods 
drenched with snow-water, their fingers and 


26 


Tessie in Cha rge. 


noses blue with cold, and the tears running 
down their cheeks while they continued to 
clamor vigorous^, growing every moment 
more and more frightened by the bugaboos 
they had conjured up. 

“ Hush, hush ! What is the matter*? You 
will alarm the neighborhood,” admonished the 
young girl, looking around to see whence dan- 
ger threatened them. 

“ I’ve been run over by a terrible steam- 
car ! ” bemoaned Toosie. 

“ And Fve been swallowed by a frightful big 
whale,” sobbed May. 

Tessie received this ludicrous explanation 
with a peal of merriment, and so reassuring 
was the sound that they forgot to be vexed 
with her for laughing at them. 

“ You dreadful children ! ” she remon- 
strated at last, realizing their bedraggled con- 
dition. “ Come right into the house and get 
off those soaking wet coats and hoods.” 

That night she was aw r akened by a queer 
sound almost like the barking of a dog, w T hich 
proceeded from the room w^here the two little 
girls slept. It was Toosie coughing and cry- 
ing with an attack of croup, and May was 
found to have taken a severe influenza. 

The first thing to be done w^as to summon 
Delia; the next, to arouse father and ask him 
to go for the doctor. After w r hat seemed an 
interminable delay, but was in fact only a short 
time, Dr. Shaw again arrived. Delia had been 


Tessie in Charge . 


27 


active in the interval, and when he had ad- 
ministered the remedies he had brought with 
him he said, turning to her: 

“ Now swathe these pappooses in hot 
blankets like genuine Inckan babies; do not 
worry, Miss Tessie, they are better already; I 
will call again in the morning.” 

Delia soon transformed the culprits into two 
queer little bundles with only their eyes and 
noses visible, and before long the strange bark- 
ing ceased, and both Toosie and May dozed 
off into the peaceful sleep which appertains to 
small folk poetically supposed to be endowed 
with the nature of cherubs. 


CHAPTER III. 


A TELEGRAM AND A VISITOR. 

After a few days the cherubs had quite re- 
covered from the effects of the singular rail- 
way collision and the menaces of the imagi- 
nary whale; and Ben’s wits, as Joe claimed, 
far from suffering injury, had been simply 
shaken up by his fall from the cherry tree. 

Tessie earnestly hoped the routine of home 
life would be broken by no other exciting in- 
cidents before her mother’s return; she began 
to understand why mamma always included 
among the intentions of the daily rosary 
“ that the children might be preserved from 
all physical as well as spiritual danger.” 

The next sensation was a telegram for 
Delia. 

At sight of the yellow envelope the good 
woman looked as alarmed as though con- 
fronted by an apparition. “ Do you open it, 
Miss Tessie,” she begged, refusing to touch it 
herself, and excitedly wringing her hands. 
“ Wirrasthrue ! Mv sister in Syracuse or one 
of the child er must be dead, no less ! Oh, that 
I should live to see the day ! ” 

28 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 29 

They were still in the hall, whither she had 
been summoned by the door-bell, and sitting 
down on the stairs she put her apron to her 
eyes and began to weep bitterly. Joe, who 
stood by, sniffed sympathetically, and May 
and Toosie, having just appeared upon the 
scene, were on the point of setting up a wail 
of their own as soon as they perceived the dis- 
tress of the friend who always took their part 
when they were in trouble. 

“ Don’t, Delia, don’t take on so — at least 
until you hear what the news is ! ” pleaded 
Tessie, tearing open the message. “ Listen, 
this is what it says: ‘ The wedding is day after 
fo-morrow; Kate’s heart is set on having you 
here.’ ” 

The figure rocking to and fro in an aban- 
donment of grief stopped abruptly. The good 
woman was for a second speechless, but her 
round, shining face looked out from behind 
the apron like the sun emerging from a cloud. 

“ Well, did any one ever hear the like ! ” 
she broke out at length. “ Bad cess to them 
for putting me in such a tremor ! Isn’t it 
enough to fash a saint ? What would I want 
at the wedding ? Not but I might have taken 
a run down for the day if the mistress was at 
home — Kate being my sister’s oldest daughter, 
and me being her godmother besides. A grand 
man she’s getting, a plumber by trade, and a 
member of the parish temperance society; but 
she deserves the best of luck, for she was ever 


30 A Telegram and a Visitor. 

dutiful to her father and mother. Of coorse 
Fd like to gee her married, if so ’twas I could 
go — but since ’tis not to be thought of. Miss 
Tessie, dear, you’ll write a bit of a note for 
me, saying I wish the colleen and her choice 
all happiness, and I send my last month’s 
wages for Kate to buy herself a present ac- 
cording to her taste.” 

Having obtained a promise that a letter 
should be written the same evening, Delia be- 
took herself to the kitchen, studying the tele- 
gram, which she had at last ventured to take 
into her own hands. 

“ Could we not manage to let Delia go, after 
all ? ” said Tessie to her father an hour later. 
“ She would only be away twenty-four hours.” 

“ I think we could get along very well dur- 
ing the interval, since you are becoming so 
proficient a housekeeper, my dear,” responded 
Mr. Marron heartily. 

“ You won’t mind meals served somewhat 
a la picnic for a day ? ” stipulated his daugh- 
ter, flushing with pleasure at his praise, but 
with a little anxious frown, as she remembered 
that there might be a few hitches in the work- 
ing of the domestic machinery w r hen she was 
left to keep it running entirely according to 
her own devices. 

“Kot at all; if we choose to have a winter 
picnic by our own fireside it will be all the 
merrier, and we will agree beforehand that no 
grumbling or fault-finding is to be allowed.” 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 31 

“ Oh, you are the dearest father ! ” cried 
Tessie, giving him an affectionate kiss. 

“Is it to leave you all, like a brood of orphan 
chicks, with no one to look after you ? Not 
if every one of my kith and kin was going to 
be married ! ” exclaimed Delia, when informed 
of the proposed arrangement. 

“ But father is not an orphan chick/’ an- 
swered Tessie, laughing, “and since there is 
no prospect of weddings being so frequent in 
your family, we think you ought not to miss 
this one.” 

As the faithful creature really longed to go, 
and was only restrained by a sense of duty, 
Tessie’s arguments, supplemented by Mr. Mar- 
ron’s positive command, triumphed in the end. 
The second day following she set out for Syra- 
cuse, yet not without sundry misgivings and 
repeated instructions to the young mistress of 
the house, and after embracing the little girls 
as fondly as if she were about to depart for the 
ends of the earth. As the stout figure in the 
purple merino gown, broche shawl, and bonnet 
with nodding green plumes disappeared down 
the street, Tessie’s heart sank. A peep into the 
well-provisioned pantry presently reassured 
her, however, and there was a certain satisfac- 
tion in finding herself in entire charge of the 
household. 

“ I’m not going to begin by borrowing 
trouble, anyhow ! ” she thought. 

But trouble often comes fast enough with- 


32 A Telegram and a Visitor. 

out being called up by telephone, as one may 
say. The time allotted for Delia’s visit passed 
uneventfully, and at the hour when she was 
expected to return all the children were at 
the front gate waiting for her. 

Alas, she did not come ! Instead, the tele- 
graph boy appeared once more, but this time 
the message was from the Syracuse Hospital. 
It said: “ Delia Reardon was run down by a 
bicyclist w r hen she was hurrying to the train 
this morning; a sprained ankle; patient suf- 
fering also from the shock.” 

It was now Tessie’s turn to sink down upon 
the stairs with lamenting. Her first thought 
was not in truth a selfish one. 

“ Poor, poor Delia ! ” she ejaculated; “ Ben 
and Joe, carry w r ord to father down-town im- 
mediately. He will know what to do.” 

* * * * 

Mr. Marron sent a dispatch to the hospital, 
directing that the devoted servant who had 
been so long in his family should receive 
every attention and care at his expense, and 
Tessie wrote a sympathetic letter, bidding 
Delia not to worry, for they were getting on 
well, and Mrs. Flaherty (a humble friend in 
need) was to come every day and attend to 
the work of the house. 

The young girl wrote more bravely than 
she felt, however. “ Misfortunes seldom come 
alone.” That very afternoon there arrived a 
hasty note from Aunt Emily announcing that 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 


33 


grandfather was ill again, and Mrs. Marron 
had postponed her return home. Mrs. 
Flaherty was “ as good as gold ” in a way, but 
her knowledge of cookery proved decidedly 
rudimentary. 

“ Fll do the cooking myself,” resolved 
Tessie. Alack for her ratfh self-confidence ! 
Three days had elapsed since Delia’s de- 
parture; at breakfast on the morning of the 
fourth Tessie’s coffee and buttered toast did 
not turn out any better than Mrs. Flaherty’s 
attempts, to say nothing of the beefsteak and 
creamed potatoes. 

Mr. Marron tried to observe the agreement 
not to find fault, but Ben and Joe kept up 
such a running fire of conundrums anent their 
sister’s culinary efforts that at length papa 
quietly propounded one in his turn. 

“ Why are you obstreperous urchins like 
a railway train about to be side-tracked P ” he 
asked, looking up from his newspaper. 
Neither could hit upon the correct an- 
swer. 

“ Because you will probably be switched off 
directly,” he explained, with a significant nod, 
which called forth a laugh from the little girls, 
and promptly caused the boys to lose all inter- 
est in their riddle-making. The meal over, 
Tessie, after a little prayer for patience, said 
to herself: “ I’ll have a nice dessert at dinner 
to offset my failure this time. I can cook a 
custard, anyhow.” The pudding indeed 


34 A Telegram and a Visitor. 

turned out a complete success. When the 
gratified young cook threw open the oven 
door, and revealed the delicacy ready for the 
table, her two little sisters clapped their hands 
and Mrs. Flaherty declared it “ fine enough to 
put before a king ! ” 

The hoys were favored with a peep at it 
when they came home from school, and when 
papa arrived from his counting-room he was at 
once informed by May and Toosie of the treat 
to be expected. The shortcomings of the dinner 
itself were overlooked in anticipation of “ the 
triumph of the confectioner’s art,” as Joe 
styled Tessie’s masterpiece. But, oh, the pity ! 
How many a mishap may chance between an- 
ticipation and fulfilment ! As she took the 
hot dish from the oven it slipped from her 
hands and fell to the floor. The delectable 
pudding was irretrievably lost ! 

“ A leprechaun must have been at the mak- 
ing of it to bring such ill-luck ! ” bewailed 
Mrs. Flaherty in real distress. Returning to 
the dining-room, Tessie sank upon a chair, 
the picture of serio-comic woe; the cherubs 
wept quietly in mingled sympathy for her 
trials and their own disappointment. 

" Humpty-dumpty sat on a wall. 

Humpty-dumpty had a great fall ; 

Not all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men 
Could make Humpty-dumpty whole again,” 


sang the boys in rueful chorus. 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 35 

“ Never mind, my dear, accidents will hap- 
pen and you are doing valiantly,” attested her 
father as he lit his after-dinner cigar. Later, 
however, his young housekeeper shed a few 
tears “ unknown to any one but Judy 
Flaherty,” as the good woman assured her by 
way of sustaining her courage. 

* * * * 

“ Tessie,” remarked Mr. Marron next day, 
“ a friend of mine from New York is in town 
and I have invited him to tea this evening — 
just give us a simple supper,” he went on, see- 
ing her look of dismay ; “ I will have a roast 
turkey sent up from the caterer’s.” 

Tessie’s face cleared. “ Oh, very well,” 
she said. It was so nice to be able to please 
papa. 

At dusk Mr. Marron returned with his 
friend, Mr. Taylor, an elderly gentleman 
w r hose courtly deference to Tessie as the act- 
ing mistress of the house made her feel very 
important. Before long Mrs. Flaherty in a 
stiffly starched white apron, dropped an awk- 
ward courtesy at the drawing-room door and. 
announced: “ Tea is served, miss.” 

Mr. Taylor, being fond of children, begged 
that May and Toosie might be placed one on 
either side of him at table. The boys kicked 
each other’s shins under the mahogany, and 
Ben confided to his brother in a stage whisper 
that the stranger was “ a jolly old duffer;” at 
which their elder sister crimsoned, and hoped 


36 A Telegram and a Visitor. 

the gentleman was afflicted with deafness — 
“ though wishing him no harm,” as Mrs. 
Flaherty would have added. Very pretty the 
board looked, with its dainty china, snowy 
damask, sparkling cut glass, and gleaming 
silver. The pleasant air of comfort drew from 
Mr. Taylor the remark: “ Well, Mr. Marron, 
although we miss the presence of your charm- 
ing wife, it must be highly gratifying to you 
to have her place so admirably filled by your 
daughter.” 

The turkey proved, in Ben’s parlance, “a 
noble bird.” By the time it was replaced by a 
dish of delicious-looking sliced oranges and 
some of Delia’s incomparable fruit-cake Tessie 
felt entirely at ease; the children were behav- 
ing beautifully, and she could listen with un- 
concern to the conversation, and answer 
brightly when the kindly gentleman addressed 
her. This playing hostess was certainly agree- 
able. 

“ H’m ! the oranges need a trifle more 
sugar, my dear,” suggested her father, 
abruptly. 

“Yes, father,” she replied, passing to the 
guest a small Wedgwood bowl shaped like an 
Etruscan vase, which she had hastily filled 
with powdered sugar a few moments before 
they sat down to the meal. The visitor rested 
the spoon on the edge of the Etruscan vase a 
moment while he snoke to May; then he 
sprinkled some of the sugar over the orange 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 37 

on the little Dresden plate which had been 
set before him. 

But shades of the seven cooks of Paris ! 
what necromancy was here ? No sooner had 
the snowy powder touched the luscious fruit 
than there was a puff — a mysterious fizzing 
sound — the orange seemed to bubble up, and 
the plate was enveloped in a sizzling white 
cloud. Mr. Taylor instinctively drew back. 

“ Oh, see ! ” cried Toosie and May to- 
gether. The boys stared, and quickly broke 
into a shout of laughter. Mr. Marron frowned 
in a puzzled way, and turned to Tessie for an 
explanation; but, blushing with confusion, 
she could only shake her head, being as unable 
to account for the phenomenon as were the 
others. Suddenly a light dawned upon her, 
however. 

“ I know now,” she stammered, “ I must 
have made a mistake; it is not powdered sugar 
at all ! ” 

“ What then ? ” demanded her father 
sternly. 

Tessie quailed inwardly; there flashed upon 
her mind a gruesome mediaeval story of a lady 
who in pretended friendship had bidden her 
guests to a poisoned banquet. She stole a 
timid glance at Mr. Taylor, wondering if a 
like thought had occurred to him. But he 
was smiling broadly. 

“ It is just — baking-powder ! ” she gasped, 
with burning cheeks. “ There was a package 


38 


A Telegram and a Visitor. 


of baking-powder in the pantry and in my 
haste I mistook it for the sugar; please ex- 
cuse my stupidity.” 

Mr. Marron’s annoyance was appeased, and 
Mr. Taylor threw back his head and “ha, 
ha’d ” good-naturedly. 

“ I understand,” he said; “ the bicarbonate 
of soda in the powder mingling with the acid 
of the fruit produced an effervescence of 
course, — ha, ha, ha ! But the little pyrotech- 
nic display, although not on the menu , does 
not detract from the many evidences you have 
given us of your skill as a housekeeper, Miss 
Tessie.” 

The boys w r ere still inclined to be hilarious 
over the practical joke Tessie had played upon 
herself, the little girls still giggled, but their 
father by a soft but imperative tap on the 
table called them to order, as Mrs. Flaherty 
brought on a fresh supply of oranges pro- 
fusely sugared. 

* * * * 

A day or two after this misadventure Delia 
came home, her recovery having perhaps been 
hastened by her uneasiness lest Mrs. Flaherty 
might “presume too much” on the footing 
accorded her in the household. Although still 
somewhat stiff and lame as the result of the 
encounter with the bicyclist, she declared her- 
self able to resume her duties, and oh, how 
happy Tessie was to have her take them up 
again. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE COOKING CLASS. 

“I knew you would be interested, Tessie, 
dear, so I came right over to tell you,” an- 
nounced Laura Gaines one morning, as she 
sank into the most comfortable chair in the 
Marrons’ cosy sitting-room. 

“ Miss Garnish will be in town for a month 
to give lessons in cookery; society has taken 
up the fad, and Mrs. Van Rensaleer is to be 
the president of a Ladies’ Cooking Class, 
which means, of course, that it will be very 
select. There is to be a junior class besides. 
Hone of the nobodies will be asked to join, 
only girls who will be debutantes two or three 
winters from now, like you and me, for in- 
stance.” 

“ Oh, I’m not sure that I shall 4 come 
out’ formally,” disclaimed Tessie, impressed 
by the picture Laura’s imagination thus 
painted with a few bold strokes. 

“ Ho doubt your mother would have heard 
from Mrs. Van Rensaleer on the subject of the 
class before this, if she had been at home,” 
pursued her friend with awkward hesitation. 

39 


40 


The Cooking Class. 


“ There is a note from her waiting to be for- 
warded to mother. I know it from the mono- 
gram/’ answered Tessie quickly, for like many 
older, and ostensibly wiser, people she was not 
insensible to the satisfaction of having her 
family recognized as belonging to the most 
exclusive social circle of Perry vi lie. 

“ Yes,” agreed Laura, glancing at the en- 
velope which Tessie took from the chimney- 
piece, and held out for her inspection. “It 
must be the invitation. But about the junior 
class — mamma has entered into the plan with 
great spirit; she says it is such a splendid op- 
portunity for a young girl to learn to cook; 
what would she not have given for such a 
chance when she was our age, and so on. As 
Mrs. Van Rensa'leer, having no daughters of 
her own, is not acquainted with the future 
society buds, mamma has suggested to her the 
names of some of the eligible girls. e There is 
Tessie Marron to begin with/ she said, and 
the lady president replied, ‘ Yes, the Marrons 
are counted among our very best families.’ ” 

Again Tessie felt a little glow of gratified 
pride. 

“ And then,” concluded Laura, having 
paused only to take breath, “ as you are really 
keeping house, you will find the lessons of 
practical value.” 

The young housekeeper sighed, recalling 
her experiences during Delia’s absence. “ I 
think it is a very nice plan,” she admitted. 


The Cooking Class. 


41 


“ I was sure you would be delighted,” ran 
on Laura; “ furthermore it is proposed that 
once a fortnight each member of the coterie 
in turn shall invite the others to a luncheon at 
her house, the dishes served to be prepared by 
herself. Sub rosa , I believe most of the girls 
will turn the recipes over to their mothers’ 
cooks as the surer way of attaining good re- 
sults; but at any rate the parties will give us 
many pleasant Saturday afternoons — for of 
course we can keep these entertainments up 
during Lent, you know, since the aim is so 
domestic and praiseworthy and — and — I really 
shall endeavor to learn to make some new 
dishes for Fridays and abstinence days, which 
are so trying ! ” 

Evidently pretty, frivolous Laura’s realiza- 
tion of the object of the fasts of the Church 
was even more vague and farther astray than 
her notion of the advantages to be derived 
from the lessons in cookery. In fact, like 
her good-looking, amiable, worldly-minded 
mother, she wished to glide through life as 
easily as possible, and make everything she 
undertook a social success. 

“ Really, I must be going,” she now ex- 
claimed, starting up; “I came in for a few 
minutes and have stayed an hour; but you are 
always so entertaining. You will arrange 
about the class, won’t you ? Ten dollars for 
the course; so cheap, is it not ?” 

Thus chatter, chatter, ran on Laura’s treble 


42 


The Cooking Class. 


but not unmusical voice, as she fluttered into 
the handsome coat she had thrown off upon 
her arrival, drew on her gloves with various 
little jerks, and, lightly touching Tessie’s 
cheek in a bird-like manner, supposed to be 
indicative of intense affection, took her de- 
parture, leaving her dearest friend slightly be- 
wildered, but in a whirl of pleasurable excite- 
ment. “ It is a nice plan,” repeated Tessie to 
herself, her thoughts occupied more especially 
with the social features of the scheme, 
whereon Laura had dwelt so enthusiastically, 
for the girls of their set dearly loved to pro- 
vide amusement for the precious Saturday 
afternoons after the work of the week at 
school. 

“ And then, too, I am truly anxious to 
learn how to cook,” she continued. “ It will 
be so useful, and economical, too, in the end, 
if I can prepare the delicious confections for 
which Miss Garnish is noted. Mother will not 
need to engage the services of a caterer for my 
debut in two years’ time, for of course, as 
Laura says, I shall be obliged to have a coming 
out party. I shall speak to father about the 
lessons after tea.” 

In the evening, accordingly, when the boys 
had vanished to the upper regions, the cherubs 
were asleep in their little beds, and Mr. Mar- 
ron, established at ease before the sitting- 
room fire, was tranquilly puffing at his cigar, 
she preferred her request. 


The Cooking Class. 


43 


“What, pay ten dollars to learn to make 
flimflams and flummery ! ” he muttered, im- 
patiently; for it was an inopportune time, 
early in January, when business men are apt 
to have obligations to meet, and this year for 
many people “ money was tight,” as the say- 
ing is. 

“But, father,” alleged Tessie, somewhat 
offended that he took so small account of her 
good intentions, “ it would be so useful — ” 

“ Fudge ! ” he commented, unapprecia- 
tively: “ your mother never attended a cook- 
ing school.” 

“No, but she will have an opportunity 
now%” responded his daughter naively. 

Mr. Marron threw himself back in his chair, 
and began to laugh immoderately. With an 
air of offended dignity Tessie seated herself 
on an ottoman at the other side of the read- 
ing-table, and picking up a magazine fixed her 
eyes upon an illustration without the faintest 
idea of what she was looking at. Presently 
her father, controlling his amusement, leaned 
forward, and, regarding her seriously, said: 

“ My dear child, these classes are all very 
well in their way, but if you are in earnest 
about learning to cook you could not have a 
better school than the home kitchen, nor a 
more competent instructor than Delia. As for 
your mother, in my opinion she is better 
versed in the science than most of those who 
lecture upon it. I dare say Mrs. Gaines, how- 


44 


The Cooking Class. 


ever, might profit by the lessons, to judge 
from Gaines’ fondness for dining at the Gen- 
tlemen’s Club.” 

Tessie inwardly resented the criticism upon 
Laura’s mother. 

“ To learn at home would not be the same,” 
she replied, biting the corner of her dainty 
handkerchief. “ You do not understand — ” 

Mr. Marron dismissed the subject, however, 
and became engrossed in a newspaper, leaving 
her to lapse into moody silence. 

“ Why had she not settled the question with 
her mother ? ” she asked herself in chagrin, 
for she rightly surmised that Mrs. Marron, 
being unwilling to deprive her of any advan- 
tage or diversion enjoyed by her companions, 
would have arranged that the ten dollars 
should be forthcoming. The next day, feeling 
the need of sympathy, she told her disappoint- 
ment to Delia. 

“ Faith, and a right view your father took,” 
declared her humble confidant, with a wise 
nod of the head. “ These coolinary seeances, 
or whatever they are called, may do for those 
whose early education — what with painting, 
music, and the like — has been neglected. But 
if you want to ask your friends to a luncheon, 
I’ll teach you how to prepare a royal one. To 
tell you the truth, Miss Tessie, I’ve had hopes 
that, with the experience you are getting 
willy-nilly, as one may say, and the worries 
you had by reason of your ignorance while I 


The Cooking Class. 


45 


was away, you would start in and take a 
genuine interest in housekeeping. There's 
your mother, now; if I am extra busy she will 
come down and make a loaf of cake — perhaps 
for the friends you have in to tea — and think 
nothing of it. ‘ Sure, it's Miss Tessie who 
ought to learn to do that/ I sometimes say to 
her, but she always answers: 4 Do not men- 
tion it, Delia; the child has enough to see to, 
with her studies and her music.' 

“ ‘ There's the vacations and Saturdays 
when she lolls in the sitting-room with a story 
book and complains of having nothing to do,' 
I argify. Like as not at this the mistress 
draws herself up with a grand air and says: 
c We won't discuss the point further, if you 
please/ and I feel put in my place without 
more ado." 

Tessie wished for a share of Mrs. Marron's 
quiet dignity to check her plain-spoken coun- 
sellor now; but her conscience was uneasy and 
she made no reply. 

“ ‘ Yes indeed/ I says to myself," the mudh- 
liumored servant went on, “ ‘ what is the 
good of book knowledge and all the arts and 
seeances if a girl does not learn to spare her 
mother ? And how is it that Miss Tessie — 
who is so pious in her way — comes in and out 
day after day, when her mother is at home, 
with no thought but of her own concerns ? ' " 

Tessie burst into tears; it seemed to her 
that her good resolutions of the last few weeks 


46 The Cooking Class. 

had been productive of very little fruit after 
all. 

“How selfish I have been, Delia / 5 she ac- 
knowledged contritely. “ Dear mother, what 
an unloving, negligent child she has ! 55 

At sight of the young girl’s compunction 
Delia melted at once. 

“ Not at all / 5 she averred, veering round 
completely; “who can show a prettier or a 
better daughter than is Tessie Marron ? 
Whisht, alanna ! or it is the ’sterics [hysterics] 
you will be having directly ! Bad cess to 
my rambling tongue that is too ready by half; 
ah, but it is the good heart you have, asthore ! 
Whisht, don’t cry; give me the good heart, says 
T, and the seed sown there will yield a gen- 
erous harvest. I ask your pardon, miss, for 
speaking so; sure, would not the mistress be 
put out with me if she knew. She was right, 
as she always is; too heavy a burden must not 
be put on young shoulders, or young folk be 
blamed too much if they are a bit thoughtless, 
sometimes. Indeed, it is wonderfully well you 
have done since your mother has been away, 
and great credit is due to you for it . 55 

“Truly, I have tried / 5 faltered Tessie, drying 
her eyes, and very willing to be comforted: 
“but often, as you say, Delia, I just don’t 
think. No doubt I appeared very pettish and 
unreasonable to father last night. I must not 
let myself be so taken up with every fad the 
girls start, but be more considerate for dear 


The Cooking Class. 


47 


mother, who forgets herself for all of us. I 
will take the cooking lessons from you and 
surprise her when she comes home. I know 
she will readily let me give the little luncheon 
— for she always says simple, unpretending 
hospitality, according to one’s means, is a 
Christian virtue to he practised as well as a 
pleasure to he availed of; and my friends will 
he glad to come even if I do not belong to 
their cooking class.” 


CHAPTER V. 


TWO YOUNG HOSTESSES. 

Mrs. Markon’s visit to New York was pro- 
longed by the continued illness of her father, 
for, as the latter was loath to have her leave 
him, Mr. Marron counselled her to remain, 
reporting that all was going well at home. 
Meantime, Tessie profited by her resolution 
to cultivate a taste for domestic accomplish- 
ments; the house now wore a neater air, and 
under Delia’s supervision she had learned to 
prepare various dainty dishes. Several of her 
friends also preferred to take lessons in cook- 
ery as she was doing, but Miss Garnish’s 
circle flourished, Laura Gaines being one of 
that lady’s most enthusiastic pupils. When 
Laura’s turn came for entertaining the class, 
she decided in favor of a “ high tea ” instead 
of a luncheon. 

"It will evidently be an elaborate affair” 
Tessie wrote to her mother, and Mrs. Marron, 
with ready understanding of a girl’s longings 
on such occasions said in reply: “ I am sorry 
I am not at hand, dear, to help you in any 
little preparations you may need to make for 
Laura’s party. If you like you may take your 
48 


Two Young Hostesses. 


49 


crimson frock to our usual dressmaker. Miss 
Beaubien, and tell her to procure a few yards 
of silk and retrim it; I will attend to the bill 
upon my return/’ 

Delighted at this permission, Tessie studied 
a fashion magazine for the greater part of a 
morning. She had finally chosen the style ac- 
cording to which the frock should be re- 
modelled, when suddenly came the recollec- 
tion of the day when her mother was getting 
ready to go away — her dissatisfaction with the 
plain bonnet, and her determination that “ all 
the pretty things ” should no ‘longer be bought 
for herself and the little girls. Taking from 
her wardrobe the crimson frock, she contem- 
plated it with a critical eye. 

“ After all, it is very pretty as it is,” she 
conceded at length, yet not without one more 
wistful glance at the fashion-plate. “ Twas 
new in the autumn and I have only worn it a 
few’ times; I believe I will not mind about en- 
listing the services of Miss Beaubien, or get 
the extra silk; with some ribbons and a fresh 
bit of lace, it will do very well.” 

The little sacrifice cost her a sigh, but when 
she was dressed for the party a last glance at 
the mirror was pleasing enough to satisfy her, 
for the warm, deep color of the simple frock 
set off admirably her pale complexion, dark 
eyes, and soft brown hair. 

Mrs. Gaines and Laura received in elaborate 
evening gow r ns, however, and several of the 


50 


Two Young Hostesses. 


young guests were more richly attired than 
was suitable for schoolgirls. As she mingled 
with them Tessie felt a momentary regret at 
not having adopted mamma’s suggestion, but 
she generously put away the thought, and 
Emily Carrington’s impulsive whisper: “ My 
dear, you look like a picture,” — a compliment 
which coming somewhat in the nature of a 
reward — quickly restored her equanimity. 

Laura’s tea was indeed a gorgeous enter- 
tainment. The table was laid with an im- 
ported cloth that cost two hundred dollars, 
the appointments were correspondingly sump- 
tuous, and the viands, perhaps fortunately, 
were not prepared by the delicate, beringed 
hands of the youthful hostess, but, as she 
frankly acknowledged, ordered from the Del- 
monico’s of Perryville. 

“ Y ery splendid,” observed the irrepressible 
Emily, aside to Tessie, “ but this formality 
and atmosphere of society appear to weigh 
upon the spirits of the company; none of the 
girls are a bit natural, and for my part I 
should like to scream aloud, or go about stick- 
ing pins in them to frighten them out of their 
stiffness.” 

Tessie glanced at her apprehensively, as 
with a smile she rattled on. 

“ Mrs. Gaines is awfully good-natured, but 
is it not execrable taste to make such a splurge 
over a schoolgirl party ? Rather unrefined, 
don’t you think so ? ” 


Two Young Hostesses. 


51 


Tessie winced; pleased as she was with the 
richness and glitter that met her eyes upon 
all sides, a similar reflection had passed 
through her own mind. But she was her 
mother’s daughter, and Mrs. Marron was con- 
sidered by many as the most perfectly well- 
bred woman in Perry vi lie. 

“ Don’t you think so ? ” reiterated Emily, 
with a nudge. 

“ Having accepted a friend’s hospitality, I 
think it would be the worst possible taste for 
me to criticise her entertainment,” she replied 
coldly. 

Emily colored and stammered, with an un- 
easy laugh. 

“ Oh ! I forgot I was talking to Laura’s 
dearest companion. Still, I am sure you won’t 
repeat what I said. It is not kind or lady- 
like to comment upon whatever arrangements 
one’s hostess chooses to make, I admit, al- 
though so many people do it, and I only gave 
you the benefit of a remark made to me sev- 
eral times since I came into the room. Any- 
how this will probably spoil the whole plan 
of the pleasant afternoons; the other girls will 
not care to entertain the class if they cannot 
make as grand a display, and very few can, 
you know.” 

Emily flitted away to join Irene Wier; but 
Tessie, half hidden behind an oriental 
portiere, remained lost in thought. She had 
intended to invite her friends to luncheon 


52 


Two Young Hostesses. 


that day fortnight, hut in truth the extrava- 
gant lavishness of the present scene had pro- 
duced upon her just the impression Emily had 
described. 

The next day, being still undecided, she de- 
termined, since her mother was absent, to con- 
sult the latter’s dear friend, Miss Langdon, 
who had been a belle and a beauty in her day 
and still, at intervals, gave delightful at homes 
in the charming old Langdon mansion, where 
she also presided over the most fashionable 
school in Perryville. 

“ By all means give your little party,” ad- 
vised this lady cordially.. “ If Laura’s tea was 
too ostentatious, we will ascribe the mistake 
to the generosity and good-heartedness of her 
mother and herself. But by bringing your 
friends together in a spirit of unpretending 
hospitality, your independence will encourage 
them to do likewise and keep up the pleasant 
round of Saturday reunions.” 

So Tessie sent out invitations, and wrote 
to her mother of her decision. Mrs. Marron’s 
return letter contained an enclosure, of which 
she said: “ Grandfather is much interested in 
your party and insists upon sending a check 
to provide a few ‘ extras ? in the way of flowers 
and bonbons.” 

The check was a liberal one and the young 
girl was delighted. 

“ I shall have everything very nice without 
any attempt at show,” she said to herself, 


Two Young Hostesses. 


53 


“ and although two or three of the girls may 
perhaps make unfavorable comparisons be- 
tween my party and Laura’s, I’ll try not to 
mind, but do my best to make every one have 
a good time.” 

The momentous day came at last, and 
Tessie, in a flutter of excitement, awaited her 
guests in the drawing-room of the little Dutch 
house, which, with all its antiquated homeli- 
ness, she dearly loved. Miss Langdon had 
kindly offered to superintend behind the 
scenes; a cousin of Delia’s, a competent wait- 
ress temporarily out of place, had been pressed 
into service; and all preparations for the en- 
tertainment were completed. This agreeable 
consciousness caused the young hostess to re- 
cover quickly from her nervousness when her 
guests actually began to arrive, and she wel- 
comed them with something of her mother’s 
easy courtesy. 

Pretty enough for a fairy banquet was the 
luncheon table, with its handsome appoint- 
ments set off by the roses at each place — pro- 
vided out of grandfather’s check — the little 
menu cards painted by Tessie herself, and the 
many candles with their rose-colored silken 
caps or shades. 

The waitress fully equalled her reputation, 
Delia’s cookery even surpassed its usual excel- 
lence, and Tessie knew that the “ angel cake ” 
she had made herself was a complete success. 
The arrangements manifestly met with gen- 


54 


Two Young Hostesses. 


eral approval, and yet, despite all this, as at 
Laura’s, though certainly not for the reason 
Emily had given, a chill formality settled down 
upon the company like a filmy cloud. They 
seemed to feel that Laura’s tea had launched 
them into society and they must behave like 
other beings than their natural selves. Hence 
the friends who were accustomed to meet 
familiarly every day were as prim as though 
some malignant pixie, offended at not being 
asked to the party, had cast a spell upon them. 
Even Emily, usually so voluble, had nothing 
to say, and Laura’s thoughts appeared to be 
engrossed by the gown she wore, a gown from 
New York, quite ahead of the prevailing 
fashion in Perryville. 

The dulness was becoming oppressive, and 
the hostess was well-nigh in despair, when 
suddenly there was an ominous scuffle on the 
veranda and Joe’s voice was heard calling: 
“ Hold on, she is not quite ready.” 

“ Oh, there is no use in putting too big a 
shine on her,” was the reply from Ben. 

The next moment, Tessie’s eyes being at- 
tracted to the window opposite, she beheld a 
spectacle which nearly caused her to drop the 
cup of chocolate she was just raising to her 
lips in an attempt to appear at ease. There, 
framed by the old-fashioned casement, like a 
caricature from a comic magazine, stood Joe, 
holding aloft a struggling, squirming creature 
of about the size and shape of a large ape. 


Two Young Hostesses. 


55 


What could it be ? There was not a monkey 
in the town — 

Alas, after the first shock of amazement she 
recognized through the hideous disguise her 
beautiful pet cat Ermine ! 

But what a transformation ! Ermine, 
whose snowy whiteness had been ever the 
pride of her mistress, and who, with the dain- 
tiness of her namesake, shrank from contact 
with aught that would leave the slightest 
speck upon her soft fur — Ermine was now as 
black as any Nubian. How had the rogues 
metamorphosed her ? 

At another time their sister would have 
made a dash at them, and speedily called them 
to account. How trying it w r as to be obliged 
to remain apparently oblivious, hoping the 
capers of the young scapegrace without w’ould 
escape notice, and that having played his 
prank he would disappear to chuckle over it 
with Ben. But Joe had no intention of going 
away; moreover Ben himself presently ap- 
peared to complete the tableau, and then, as 
if this were not enough, began a fandango, 
Joe promptly joining in the dance and 
swinging poor Ermine to and fro to imaginary 
music. 

The exhibition was intended solely for 
Tessie’s benefit, but she was not destined to 
be its only spectator. 

“ Why, what was that ? ” cried Laura, look- 
ing up with a start and finding her voice at 


56 


Two Young Hostesses. 


last, as the shadow of the performers obscured 
the sunlight which had been streaming into 
the room. 

As the comical picture met her gaze she be- 
gan to laugh uncontrollably. The other girls 
glanced quickly first at Tessie’s flushed face 
and compressed lips, then towards the window 
at which Laura was staring. Before they 
could recover from their astonishment suf- 
ficiently to join in the latter’s merriment, there 
followed a denouement not on the program of 
the teasing perpetrators of this practical joke. 
Distracted by the antics of the boys and the 
mauling she had received, poor Ermine, catch- 
ing sight of her kind mistress, by a desperate 
lurch broke free from her tormentors, and 
leaped with all her strength against the win- 
dow. The pane cracked — gave way, and shiv- 
ering the glass into a hundred pieces the 
frightened animal plunged into the room. 

At the same moment Ben called out in real 
concern : “ 0 Tessie, we did not intend this ! 
We blackened Ermine with your French shoe- 
polish and she looked so funny we thought 
we would show her to you on the quiet. We 
did not suppose she would want to go to your 
luncheon without an invitation ! ” 

Thereupon the two mischief-makers scam- 
pered away. 

Poor Tessie ! Her friends, who had started 
up in alarm, were on the point of beating a 
retreat, but Margaret, Delia’s cousin, with 


Two Young Hostesses. 57 

ready energy came to the rescue. Picking up 
the cowering, trembling cat, she cried: 

“ Sure, miss, the creature is not hurt; only 
a hit scratched and bewildered. As for their 
making a naiger of her — well, well, Pve seen 
more than one turncoat in my day, but if 
this does not beat them all ! ” 

Her loud aside caused a general diversion, 
and as she disappeared kitchen ward, carrying 
away the luckless intruder, the girls, having re- 
covered from their consternation, broke into 
a peal of mirth. Tessie was unable to appreci- 
ate the ludicrous side of the affair, however, 
and could hardly keep back the tears of vexa- 
tion that sprang to her eyes. 

“ Ben and J oe are the meanest of brothers ! ” 
she said to herself, resentfully. Had she been 
at liberty to pursue, and chanced to capture 
them, no doubt she would have expressed her 
opinion of their conduct in terms more forci- 
ble than gentle. But the experience proved 
to the much-tried girl that the necessity of 
self-control, imposed by social requirements, is 
very useful as far as it goes. Without doubt, 
too, her frequent efforts of late to be patient 
and forbearing helped her in this extremity 
of her mortification. With an effort to join 
in the laugh, she resumed her place at the 
table; the guests followed her example, and 
now, to her pleased surprise, the whole atmos- 
phere seemed changed, every one became 
bright and gay. What droll anecdotes 


58 


Two Young Hostesses. 


Ermine’s ridiculous plight called forth ! Be- 
fore long the young hostess was really laugh- 
ing unaffectedly, with a comfortable sense that 
her party was a success after all. 

Presently the little company repaired to the 
drawing-room, and, having by this time thor- 
oughly succeeded in thrusting her annoyance 
into the background, Tessie sat down at the 
piano and rattled off inspiriting music, while 
her friends joined in a lively dance, chasseeing 
out into the hall and to the sitting-room be- 
yond. They had games, too, and no end of 
amusement, until Laura, peeping at her toy- 
like chatelaine watch, exclaimed: “ Girls, it is 
actually five o’clock ! ” Then the party broke 
up. 

“ It is so jolly, I just hate to go, though,” 
said Emily Carrington, bluntly. 

“ I never had a better time in my life,” de- 
clared Laura, kissing Tessie on both cheeks 
in bidding her “ Good-by until to-morrow.” 

“ And you would take a prize in cookery 
over all Miss Garnish’s pupils,” averred Irene 
Wier. 

* * * * 

When they had all gone, and Tessie sought 
out Delia to thank her for taking so much 
trouble to have everything right, she found 
the good woman still highly indignant at the 
boys for their escapade. 

“ ’Tis seldom I complain of them, but their 
father shall hear of the disgrace they were to 


Two Young Hostesses. 


59 


you this day, my dear/’ she said; “ Miss Lang- 
don was astonished at their behavior, so she 
told them, before she went home.” 

Nevertheless, Tessie, with the congratula- 
tions of her friends still ringing in her ears, 
was now disposed to judge the culprits more 
leniently than at first, and begged her irate 
champion to let the matter pass. Yet the 
broken window was awkwardly conspicuous, 
and the “ deep-dyed villain of a cat,” as Joe 
called her, would not be kept out of the way. 
These damaging evidences against the boys 
did not fail to attract the attention of Mr. 
Marron, and he put such leading questions to 
his sons that they were forced to “ own up.” 

But their sister interceded to save them 
from punishment. 

“ Pray overlook the prank, father,” she 
pleaded generously; “ after all it won the day 
for me. Only something very unexpected 
could have broken down the barrier of stiff- 
ness, as impassable as the great wall of China, 
which seemed to separate each girl from her 
neighbor.” 

Tessie had her way; but although she for- 
gave her brothers, for some days a queer, fool- 
ish lump came in her throat every time she 
looked at Ermine, whose furry coat took on as 
many shades as Joseph’s historic garment, 
especially the faded greenery-yellowy, indigo- 
mauve tints beloved by pre-Raphael ites, before 
it again resumed its own snowy whiteness. 


CHAPTER YI. 

MISS langdon’s school. 

There was no convent academy in Perry- 
ville, but during the autumn previous to the 
events just narrated the aristocratic and once 
wealthy Miss Langdon had opened a select 
school in the stately residence that had been 
the home of her childhood. There were a 
few boarding pupils, but the majority were 
day scholars; she herself exercised a general 
supervision and presided over the most ad- 
vanced class; the other classes were taught by 
subordinates, and special professors gave in- 
struction in music, painting, and elocution. 

As before arranged by Mrs. Marron, Tessie 
and also little May began to attend this school 
after the Christmas holidays. Several of their 
friends had been coming here since October, 
and these now welcomed them with enthusi- 
asm. 

“ I believe } r ou are to enter our class,” said 
Laura Gaines to Tessie, as the girls hung up 
their jackets and hats at the end of the cor- 
ridor. 

“Yes, it was decided yesterday,” was the 
happy answer. 


60 


Miss Langdon's School. 


61 


“ Well, I am delighted that we are to be 
together; but for your sake, my dear, I am 
sorry Miss Langdon is not our teacher, because 
Miss Carstens — ” and Laura elevated her eye- 
brows, as though at a loss for words to describe 
the latter personage. 

The time-mellowed voice of an antique 
clock striking the hour of nine caused the 
loiterers to repair in haste to the study hall, 
once the drawing-room of the old house. 

The stiff-backed, brocatel-covered furni- 
ture of other days had been removed, but the 
crystal chandeliers, that had flashed their radi- 
ance upon many a gay company, now caught 
the morning sunbeams, and rained them upon 
the floor of polished oak in a shower of pris- 
matic colors; the mantel mirrors and the long 
pier-glasses repeated again and again the fresh 
young faces before them, as if pleased to 
transmit such bright reflections; and upon 
the walls hung several valuable paintings. Of 
these latter the most attractive was a large 
picture at the end of the room, representing 
the “ Girlhood of Mary.” 

Miss Langdon had been educated at a con- 
vent in France, and the secret of the charm 
she exerted over all who approached her lay 
doubtless in the counsel often repeated to her 
charges. “ Learn to imitate the courtesy as 
well as the gentleness of Our Blessed Lady,” 
she was wont to say to them; “ try to be con- 
siderate, self-forgetful, and kind as She was; 


62 


Miss Langdon's School. 


model your manners after hers, in short, and 
you will attain the sweet dignity appropriate 
even to young girls, and the perfection of 
womanly grace.” 

Tessie was given a. place next to Laura. 
When the classes were called she followed her 
deskmate to the recitation-room, slightly 
nervous over the prospect before her, for 
Laura's description of what she might expect 
had certainly not been encouraging. Miss 
Carstens proved to be a small, austere per- 
sonage, with a sharp, colorless face, cold blue 
eyes framed by steel-rimmed spectacles, and 
firm, thin lips. Her opening remark after the 
short prayer with which the exercises began 
was not calculated to dispel the chilling im- 
pression caused by her severe aspect. 

“ So we are together again,” she said, as 
the class ranged their chairs around her green 
baize-covered table, “ and we may consider 
ourselves fortunate in having no new pupil 
among us, since thus no time need be lost in 
explaining the rules.” 

Emily fidgeted; Laura coughed warningly. 

“ Order, if you please ! ” The little teacher 
looked up at them sharply, and became aware 
of the presence of a stranger. Leisurely set- 
tling her spectacles, she regarded the new- 
comer with a stony stare, and observed coldly: 
“ My dear, is there not some misunderstand- 
ing ? I had no intimation that you were to 
be under my instruction.” 


Miss Laugdon s School. Go 

For reply Tessie passed to her a card 
whereon Miss Langdon had written “ Second 
English Class/’ 

Miss Carstens compressed her lips; it was 
not pleasant to find that the mistake was hers. 

“ Be seated, my dear,” she snapped, still 
more frigidly. “ I doubt if you will be able 
to keep up with us, however; to enter in 
the middle of a term is always a disadvan- 
tage.” 

Disconcerted, Tessie shrank back into her 
place. 

“Just like the old iceberg,” muttered 
Laura, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze; 
“but she is not always so formidable — some- 
times she unbends a little if all goes well.” 

The lessons had scarce begun when they 
were interrupted by the appearance of Miss 
Langdon herself, accompanied by a diffident, 
round-shouldered girl, who was so plainly 
dressed as to be almost shabby. 

“ Miss Carstens,” breezily began Madame 
(for so she was formally addressed), “ I must 
apologize for having neglected to inform you 
that I had assigned a new pupil to this class. 
Now I have brought you another. This is 
Mary Kenwick; I am sure you will make her 
feel at home ” 

“ Oh, yes, to be sure,” commented Laura 
sarcastically, under her breath, as she sketched 
the awe-inspiring spectacles upon the margin 
of her algebra. 


64 


Miss Langdon's School. 


Perhaps Miss Carstens understood the re- 
quest to he in reality a counsel; perhaps the 
appealing glance of Mary’s dark eyes pene- 
trated even her reserve — for the “ my dear 99 
that welcomed this awkward young person 
was several degrees warmer than that which 
had snubbed Tessie a few moments before. 
From the beginning the eccentric woman 
seemed perversely intent upon contrasting 
one new pupil with the other. Mary, when 
called upon to recite, forgot her shyness so far 
as to acquit herself creditably, but Tessie, not 
having recovered self-possession, failed al- 
most every time a question was put to her. 

“It is as I said. Had you not better go 
down to the third class, my dear ? 99 suggested 
Miss Carstens at the close of the hour. 

“ Oh, I failed because everything is so 
strange to me yet,” w’as the quick response. 

“ But Mary Renwick did not fail, and every- 
thing is strange to her also.” 

“ I will try to do better to-morrow,” Tessie 
promised in desperation. 

Nevertheless, the poor child had so many 
small worries at home, owing to her mother’s 
unavoidably long absence, her time for study 
was so broken in upon, and the consciousness 
that she had not begun well with Miss Cars- 
tens was so disheartening, that her recitations 
continued faulty day after day and every ex- 
cuse she offered was met by the same cool re- 
joinder from her teacher: “But Mary Ren- 


Miss Langdon's School. 


65 


wick does not do so, and she is a new pupil, 
too.” 

“I am growing to detest Mary Renwick,” 
she avowed to Laura, as they promenaded dur- 
ing recreation in the garden. 

“ How that individual managed to get into 
the good graces of the snow image I cannot 
imagine,” responded her friend sympatheti- 
cally. 

“ I wonder she was accepted here as a pupil 
anyhow,” chimed in Emily Carrington, who 
joined them just in time to catch the name of 
the personality under discussion; “ her father 
is only a clerk in the office of Lane &' Co/s 
furniture-store, and the family live in a small 
house on Vine Street and are quite poor, I 
have been told. I dare say Miss Langdon has 
taken Mary without charge.” 

“ Humph ! Madame need not attempt to 
palm off her protegee upon us, then,” asserted 
Laura, with a shrug of the shoulders; 
“ mamma is very particular that I should as- 
sociate only with the lest people.” 

“ Well, I cannot endure the girl,” pro- 
claimed Tessie with still more emphasis, “ and 
I never shall ! ” 

As time went on, however, she began to 
be a little troubled in regard to her aversion 
towards the quiet, retiring stranger, who after 
all had not willingly wronged her in the 
slightest instance. 

For who could long withstand the silent in- 


66 


Miss Langdon's School. 


fluence of the study-room, where at the end of 
the rows of desks appeared the sweet form of 
the Immaculate Maid of the Temple, with her 
book and her spinning, come, as it were, to he 
the companion of the young girls assembled 
here, in their studies and their work. 

One day as Tessie’s eyes glanced from the 
picture to where the pensive face of her rival 
bent over the history lesson, there dawned 
upon her a sudden realization of the difference 
between the haughtiness of her own manner 
and the winning gentleness of the "most 
gracious among women/’ 

“ I do not like that Renwick girl ! ” she 
said sotto voce , “ hut ” — the remainder of the 
sentence was confided to the page before her 
and lost amid the confusion of a pitched bat- 
tle between the Greeks and the Romans. 

“ I have hit upon a plan to get the better 
of my dislike of Mary Renwick,” she con- 
fided to Laura, on the way home from 
school. 

“ And what is that, pray ? ” inquired the 
latter, with some curiosity. 

“ Of course it is not Mary’s fault that Miss 
Carstens is always holding her up as a model 
to me, and so, instead of visiting my vexation 
upon her, I am going to avail myself of every 
little chance to he agreeable and obliging tow- 
ards her.” 

Laura stared incredulously, and then broke 
out with: 


Miss Langdori's School. 


67 


“ Well, you are the queerest character I ever 
knew, Tessie Marron ! What next ? ” 

“ Yes,” proceeded Tessie earnestly, absorbed 
in her project, “ one cannot dislike anybody 
all the time when one is trying to be nice to 
her; and then I am partly to blame for the 
way Mary has been slighted in the school. My 
friends have, naturally, taken sides with me, 
you see — ” 

“ Oh, to be sure you may do as you please, 
mon amie,” interrupted Laura curtly; “but 
because you now intend to cultivate the ac- 
quaintance of this little upstart you must not 
expect our set to do so. Au revoir ! I con- 
gratulate you upon your new friend.” 

The next afternoon Mary Renwick, as she 
sat at her desk after school endeavoring to 
finish a composition, found her thoughts 
dwelling in bitter disappointment upon the 
ill-will towards herself which she had un- 
wittingly aroused among her schoolmates. 

“ And I hoped it would be so different ! ” 
she sadly soliloquized. 

Mary was her father’s housekeeper. In the 
past she had learned her lessons at home and 
repeated them to her mother, but Mrs. Ren- 
wick was often ill and all books were put 
aside. Then the dear mother died and for a 
time afterwards everything was a blank. 

The first ray of life’s sunshine for Mary 
again came when it was decided that she and 
her little brother should go to school. How 


68 


Miss Lang don's School. 


pleasant it was the first morning when, hav- 
ing left Willie at the kindergarten, she went 
on to Miss Langdon’s. In what a flutter of 
excitement and pleasure she was at the pros- 
pect of having companions of her own age. 
During the study hour how the words of the 
lesson seemed to dance all over the leaves of 
the book, and at odd moments with what in- 
terest her gaze strayed from her task ! 

“ These girls, who look so happy and at- 
tractive, and wear such pretty gowns, will 
surely be sweet and friendly,” she said to her- 
self. Then came class, and she was so grate- 
ful for Miss Carstens’ encouragement. But, 
alas, recreation-time brought disillusion. Two 
or three of the most sociable of the pupils 
asked her how she liked the school, but the 
others took no notice of her, and before long 
she was left sitting alone on a bench under 
one of the trees of the garden. And thus it 
had been ever since. She was hardly better 
acquainted with her schoolmates now than at 
first. 

“ I wish I knew how to make friends, be- 
cause I like some of the girls so much,” she 
sighed: “but, heighho ! I must not mope 
over it. Of what account are my small trials 
at school after all, so long as everything goes 
well at home ? Father and Willie do not 
think me odd or strange, as these girls seem to, 
and father praises me when I try to plan and 
sew my gowns; he does not laugh when I do 


Miss Langdori's School. 


69 


not get them exactly right or according to 
the latest fashion. How delighted he is, too, 
when I win high rank in class ! Since it is 
to please him I am working, why should I fret 
over the little spiteful ways of some of the 
girls ? I am not going to do so; I would not 
for anything have father know I am not per- 
fectly happy here. He tells me so often how 
gratified he is that I have the advantage of 
associating with those who are perfect ladies 
in every respect. H’m, how indignant he 
would be if he knew of the manner in which 
they act towards me ! Is it because father is 
poor, and I cannot wear pretty gowns ? Or 
because dear Miss Carstens has unconsciously 
made Tessie Marron heartily dislike me ? I 
know Tessie thinks me a prig, and mean, and 
disagreeable. Yet how can I help it ? Fudge ! 
I do not intend to bother about the matter 
any more. I must go now and look up those 
points in connection with to-morrow’s history 
lesson upon which we are expected to be in- 
formed.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


MART RENWICK. 

Putting away her work, Mary repaired to 
the library, a pleasant room lined from floor 
to ceiling with the several thousand volumes 
(many of them rare early editions) collected 
by Miss Langdon’s father. To these the older 
pupils were allowed access. 

As the studious girl softly pushed open the 
door of this quite retreat, she saw that some 
one was seated at the long table, bending over 
a bulky folio. 

It was Tessie Marron. 

A shadow passed over Mary’s face, and at 
the same moment her rival looked up with a 
frown. 

“ What a bore,” mentally ejaculated Tessie. 
“ To be confronted with my bete noir , as Laura 
would say, and no good chance to escape, 
either, for I must finish taking these notes. 
I need not speak to her, anyhow ! Of course 
we are here on the same errand. Well,” she 
bent her head over the book to hide a smile: 
“ my lady will have some difficulty in finding 
the information she wants.” 

70 


Mary Renwick. 


71 


For some minutes the newcomer vainly 
hunted through encyclopedias; then in inde- 
cision stood contemplating the rows of 
shelves. 

“ Ha, mademoiselle,” thought Tessie, 
“ without a doubt you will fail to-morrow. I 
fancy I hear Miss Carstens saying: ‘What, 
Mary, you could not inform yourself upon 
this matter ? Why, Tessie Marron did so ! ’ 
But pshaw ! Miss Carstens would never say it; 
she is too partial to her favorite.” 

Just then the small voice of her inner con- 
sciousness whispered: “ Tessie, Tessie ! what 
was it you made up your mind to do ? Here 
is a chance to he generous — to put into effect 
your good resolution.” 

The two girls had not exchanged a word, 
but Mary once or twice glanced inquiringly at 
the book over which her companion pored in 
affected unconcern. At last Tessie rose, and 
pushing the volume towards her, said indif- 
ferently: 

“ If you are searching for a description of 
the manners and customs of the ancient 
Romans perhaps you may find it here.” 

A quick smile of pleasure lighted up the 
thoughtful countenance of the other girl. 

“ Oh, thank you,” she replied, eagerly scan- 
ning the page. 

This cordial acknowledgment of a trifling 
courtesy smote her classmate with compunc- 
tion, however, for the latter felt she had 


72 


Mary Renwick. 


passed the book only lest Mary might sup- 
pose she wanted to keep the information to 
herself. 

“ It — it is very brief and unsatisfactory, 
though,” continued Mary, after a pause. 

Again Tessie hesitate*!; again interposed 
that troublesome, persistent little inner coun- 
sellor: “ Be generous. Do not throw away 
this opportunity; of course you have a perfect 
right to do so — you are not obliged to help 
your rival. It is none of your affair that she 
may be discomfited to-morrow, but — there are 
some things better than class points. The 
vanquishing of a competitor is sweet, but a 
triumph over one’s self is sweeter.” 

A moment more and the struggle was over; 
with a light laugh she sprang up, saying: 
“Yes, it is unsatisfactory, but you will find 
a much fuller account in a volume on the 
third shelf, that small book in the brown 
binding — there, you have it now.” 

Mary turned around with the book in her 
hand. “ You were kind to tell me,” she said 
gratefully. 

“ I discovered it by the merest chance my- 
self,” explained Tessie. 

“ I should never have expected — ” Mary 
began awkwardly. Tessie interrupted with 
some bruskness: “ I know; you supposed me 
mean enough to keep the advantage to mv- 
self.” 

“That is not it,” stammered Mary, flush- 


Mary Renwick. 


73 


ing; but after a second of embarrassment she 
went on steadily: “ We seem fated to mis- 
understand each other, Tessie, but I have 
often wanted to tell you how sorry I am that 
Miss Carstens — ” 

“ I do not care to discuss Miss Carstens/’ 
was the cold rejoinder. 

“ I only meant — ” 

“ It is of no consequence/’ persisted Tessie, 
nonchalantly turning over the leaves of an 
atlas ; then, realizing that she was still un- 
gracious, she added, by way of changing the 
subject of conversation and thus paving the 
way for an amicable retreat: 

“ I presume you study very hard ? ” 

“ Yes, I do,” admitted Mary frankly; “ I 
have to make up for lost time; until I came 
here I had never attended a regular school.” 

“ Is that what makes you so different from 
other girls ? ” 

“ Am I so different ? ” 

“ Why, yes; at least I have always thought 
so.” 

“ Perhaps it is because I never had any com- 
panions of my own age before,” said Mary, 
with an unconscious sigh. “ I never missed 
them while mother lived, because we were com- 
pany for each other. But I do not know very 
well what other girls are interested in, or like 
to talk about, and I cannot get over feeling 
strange among them.” 

Tessie’s heart w T as filled with self-reproach. 


74 


Mary Renwick. 


as she felt how little she and her friends had 
done to soften this sense of isolation and lone- 
liness for the motherless girl, whose shy re- 
serve was now so quickly melting away 
beneath the sunshine of a little act of friend- 
liness. They continued chatting until the bell 
rang for study ten minutes later, and sepa- 
rated, each more kindly disposed towards the 
other than either would have thought possible 
half an hour before. 

He * * * 

“ It works like a charm, ” Tessie acknowledged 
to Laura a week later. “ Since I have tried 
to be obliging in little ways to Mary Eenwick 
my bitterness against her seems to have died 
out. Of course when Miss Carstens quotes her 
virtues for my benefit I am vexed, but after a 
moment I can laugh over it as one of the ice- 
berg’s peculiarities.” 

“ Perhaps your tolerance is due to the fact 
that you get on so much better in class now,” 
suggested her companion archly. 

“ Perhaps so; still, I really begin to think 
Mary is rather a nice girl after all.” 

“ Oh, you are welcome to your opinion, but 
the other girls have no notion of taking her 
up because you choose to unbend towards her, 
my dear,” retorted Laura, in a tone which 
rendered farther discussion of the question in- 
advisable; for Tessie had by no means reached 
the point of being willing to risk an estrange- 
ment from her dearest friend for Mary’s sake. 


Mary Ren wick. 


75 

But although her liking for the latter grew 
stronger every day, the majority of her class- 
mates made the quiet new scholar feel only 
too keenly that she did not belong to their set. 
One day when Laura, Emily Carrington, and 
Irene Wier were chatting together at recrea- 
tion, Mary, reflecting that perhaps she was too 
inclined to imagine slights, ventured to join 
them. In the course of a minute or two the 
conversation drifted to the subject of dress, as 
usual when led by butterfly Laura. 

With surprising powers of description the 
three girls discoursed upon their fashionable 
costumes, past, present, and prospective, 
covertly eying their companion’s simple attire 
the while. 

“ And how are you going to have your new 
frock made, Mary ? ” inquired Emily, turn- 
ing to her at last. 

“ Time enough to decide when I get it,” 
was the careless answer. Mary had a fair 
share of independence, and was a cheery little 
creature in the main. 

“ What ! not a modish one, even for the 
spring ? ” asked Irene. 

“ Why do you not have pretty clothes like 
the rest of us ? Why do you wear such queer, 
old-fashioned gowns ? ” interjected Laura. 

From the clear eyes turned towards her 
there flashed a scornful glance which caused 
her to change color, and try to laugh off the 
rude speech. 


76 


Mary Renwich. 


“ I do not ask my father to buy new dresses 
for me, because he has too many other ex- 
penses,” Mary returned bravely. 

“ Oh, but mamma says f to be well gowned 
is a duty we owe to ourselves and to society/ ” 
glibly contended her inquisitor. 

“ Well gowned, yes, but not more hand- 
somely than one is able to afford,” insisted 
Mary; “ I could not pay the bills of a stylish 
dressmaker, and — and I do try to be neat, but 
— well, no doubt I would make a better ap- 
pearance if I had a mother to plan and sew for 
me.” 

The pathos and rebuke in the words em- 
barrassed her hearers; they were also uncom- 
fortably conscious that they were only too apt 
to tease for everything they wanted at home. 
Laura, in some confusion, despite her assump- 
tion of what she was pleased to term sang 
froid, murmured a hasty “ I beg your par- 
don” and began to chatter about something 
else. 

* * * * 

“ What horribly bad taste of Mary to speak 
so bluntly,” remarked Irene to Emily after- 
wards; “ but it served Laura right — although 
the random shot must have struck home there 
with particular force. Only this morning I 
heard father say to mother that the business 
affairs of Mr. Gaines are not in as good a con- 
dition as they might be, and his family are 
too extravagant by far.” 


Mary Remvick. 


77 


“ I heard something of the kind also,” 
affirmed Emily; “ Laura would better take 
care; ‘ pride goes before a fall ’ and ‘ people 
who live in glass houses/ you know — ” 

“ It made me sorry when Mary spoke of 
having no mother/’ continued Irene. 

“ Yes, but I wonder who does make her 
frocks ! 99 speculated the irrepressible Emily. 

The trio had not meant to be really un- 
kind; because Mary suffered their neglect 
with gentle dignity they never imagined how 
deeply it wounded her. And yet, notwithstand- 
ing their selfish thoughtlessness, with strange 
inconsistency, none were so fond as these same 
girls of bringing little gifts for the adornment 
of the shrine before the picture in the study 
room. Irene, for instance, presented the 
delicately tinted candles she had received at 
Christmas; Emily, a pair of exquisite porce- 
lain vases; and Laura always provided flowers. 

“ We have plenty in the conservatory/’ she 
was wont to say; “ and mamma does not care 
how many I take, so long as I leave a few 
blooms to decorate the dinner-table.” 

By degrees, however, the friends were to be 
reminded of the “ rarer offerings, costing 
something — but not gold.” 

* * * * 

“ I have to stay in after school to rehearse 
my part in the French charades with Miss 
Langdon,” said Laura, as she nodded good-by 
to Tessie and Emily one day soon after the 


78 


Mary Rente ick. 


spirited passage of arms recorded above. 
When she returned to the study-room there 
at a desk sat Mary Kenwick, poring over some 
unfinished task. With a supercilious inclina- 
tion of the head she passed on, and sitting 
down at some little distance began to con over 
the lines of the play. 

But her mind often wandered, for she was 
not happy. Unfortunately the report about 
the business troubles of Mr. Gaines had some 
foundation; they were, he hoped, only tem- 
porary, but he had informed his wife and 
daughter very decidedly that their expendi- 
tures must be retrenched; there must be no 
more entertaining on a lavish scale, no more 
dressmakers’ bills for a while. 

“ J ust to think of it ! ” Laura had be- 
moaned to herself at this announcement, for 
she could not even have the satisfaction of 
talking the matter over with Tessie; “ just 
to think of it ! I have had nothing new this 
winter except that little evening frock for the 
tea, and the one I was wearing, which I got for 
Tessie’s luncheon. Soon I shall have to fall 
back upon my old gowns of last year. Well, 
papa shall see how horrid I look; he will be 
shamed into getting me something more a la 
mode 99 

Papa was too preoccupied to be impressed 
as anticipated, but following up this foolish 
resolution Laura had for a week or more worn 
one of the last season’s frocks with a martyr- 


Mary Remciek. 


79 


like submission in the family circle, and at 
school in a disdainful defiance of criticism. 
But for the vague rumors afloat and the fact 
that she was usually arrayed in the very 
height of fashion her schoolmates would 
hardly have remarked the difference, and as 
it was they attached much less importance to 
the circumstance than she imagined. But 
Laura was sensitive and now her thoughts ran 
on as follows: 

“ Oh, dear, I need not have sneered at Mary 
on account of her shabby clothes,” she sighed; 
“ soon I may be as dowdy as she is, and my 
friends will slight me as I have slighted her. 
How she keeps scrutinizing me ! Of course 
she is meditating how she can retaliate for all 
the mean things I have said and done to her. 
Oh, dear, oh, dear, perhaps we shall become 
really poor, and have to live in a second-rate 
neighborhood, and never have anything nice 
again, and I shall always look just as horrid 
as I do to-day.” 

The eyes of the despondent girl filled with 
tears. At this moment, glancing up, she en- 
countered Mary’s gaze still steadily fixed upon 
her. It was not to be endured; crimsoning 
with annoyance, Laura sprang to her feet, ex- 
claiming haughtily: 

“ Well, Miss Renwick, may I ask why I am 
favored with your flattering attention ? ” 

Surprised at this sudden outbreak, Mary 
drewr back, and half-doubting if the challeng- 


80 


Mary JRenwick. 


ing tone was intended to be taken seriously, 
said with good-humored archness: 

“ I beg your pardon; yet even Grimalkin 
may blink at a king, you know.” 

“ Spare me your witticisms, if you please; I 
fear I am not clever enough to appreciate 
them,” rejoined Laura tartly; “but I would 
give a penny for your thoughts, since you have 
done me the honor of staring at me for fully 
five minutes by the clock.” 

Mary lost patience. 

“ Would you really like to know of what I 
was thinking ? ” 

Laura nodded. “ I am going to have my 
mental and moral photograph presented in no 
very attractive manner,” she said to herself, 
“ but I have always felt matters would end in 
an open quarrel with this girl and it has come 
at last.” 

“ Laura Gaines, you have always been mean 
and disagreeable to me,” began Mary hotly, 
“ and you seem to think me as ungenerous and 
spiteful as yourself — but if you must know 
what was in my mind while I was watching 
you — ” 

“ Yes ? ” 

“Well — I was thinking — Laura does not 
like me — one could not call her amiable — 
but how pretty she is — how charming to look 
at ! As pretty as the lovely French doll I was 
so fond of when I was a child; how proud 
her father must be of her ! ” 


Mary Renwick. 


81 


This reply was jerked out abruptly, but had 
the floor opened, or the ceiling fallen, Laura 
would not have been more surprised. The 
glow in her cheeks deepened until they were 
red as a peony, and she started back as if she 
had been stung. Mary, however, was too 
angry to pay any heed; hastily putting away 
her books, she slammed down the cover of 
her desk and was about to leave the room 
when she was arrested by a curt: 

“ Wait a moment, please.” 

Something in the tone caused her to hesi- 
tate. Her intention had certainly not been 
to conciliate Laura; on the contrary, she had 
been actuated principally by offended pride, 
and a wish to prove that she was above the 
petty malice shown by her schoolmates. 
Hardly the soft answer which tumeth away 
wrath, but rather the flaring up of a little 
electric spark. The retort, however, flashed a 
sudden light into the consciousness of the lis- 
tener. The revelation was far from pleasant 
notwithstanding, and did not improve matters, 
for the unexpected speech sounded ironical to 
Laura; to realize a fault is one thing, to 
calmly submit to the satirical heaping of coals 
of fire upon one’s head is quite another. 

“ Wait a moment,” she repeated, and then 
went on impetuously, as Mary wheeled around 
and stood regarding her: “ I dare say you are 
right; no doubt I deserve to be stared at as 
though I were a doll, Miss Renwick; no doubt 


82 Mary Remvick. 

my father is proud to have a doll for a daugh- 
ter ! ” 

"But I did not mean any sarcasm,” pro- 
tested Mary, seeing that her words had been 
misconstrued; “ I — I am sorry I spoke.” 

Laura experienced another revulsion of feel- 
ing. Mary had been sincere, then; the words 
at which she had taken offence were not in- 
tended as a taunt. And did she really look 
passably well in this old frock without a bit 
of style to it ? Why, if so, — the discovery was 
so astounding that her surprise seemed to con- 
centrate into one big exclamation-point, — 
why, then, style and dress were not everything 
after all; one might be really attractive, and 
even admired, without them. 

“ Yet as to papa being proud of me,” she re- 
flected, with bitter self-reproach; “ how could 
he be, indeed, when I have shown about as 
much feeling or consideration for him as a 
doll, anyhow ? Less in fact, for a doll always 
has a smiling face at least, and how cross I 
have been at home during the last few days, 
when poor papa has so much to worry him. 
Well, well, I shall try to show him I am not 
so heartless as I have seemed. Mary must be 
a nice girl, as Tessie said, for with every rea- 
son for dislike she was thinking kindly of me. 
I am sure I should never be so generous as to 
indulge in any complimentary speculations re- 
garding any one who acted to me as I have 
towards her.” 


Mary Ren wick. 


83 


The changes of expression in Laura’s face 
revealed something of what was passing in 
her mind, and presently in a softened manner 
she said aloud: “ I have been horrid to you, 
Mary, ever since you came to school here. I 
wish I could make you forget it ! ” 

“ Oh, do not say any more,” entreated Mary, 
shrinking with shy awkardness from the 
apology: “ I — I must be going home — ” and 
catching up her jacket and hat she fled 
precipitately, almost running against Miss 
Langdon, who was just entering the room. 

“ Ah, my dear, you are ready for me I pre- 
sume,” said Madame, appearing not to notice 
Laura’s flushed countenance and embarrassed 
demeanor; “ I am glad you and Mary Ren- 
■wick have been chatting together; the sound 
of your voices reached me as I came along the 
corridor. I have noted with chagrin and dis- 
satisfaction that some of your classmates have 
not been friendly to this gentle little new 
scholar; — such petty jealousy is unworthy of 
my girls. I am personally much interested in 
Mary; her mother was the beauty of our 
school in Paris, and of high social connec- 
tions. Her father is greatly respected; the son 
of a wealthy New York capitalist, he chose, 
in a financial crisis, to sacrifice his own 
fortune rather than cause severe loss to those 
who trusted in him. I was happy when he 
brought his daughter to me saying he now 
found himself able to provide for her educa- 


84 


Mary Renwick. 


tion. You see my young friend comes natur- 
ally by her refinement and nobility of charac- 
ter and I trust her companions will soon learn 
to appreciate her.” 

Laura mumbled a half-incoherent reply, 
and handing Madame the book of the play, 
plunged into the recitation of her lines. 

“ Only fancy ! ” she said later, when re- 
counting the incident to Tessie; “and we 
thought Mary Renwick was a little nobody ! 
I suppose when the girls hear her story they 
will regret having slighted her in such a snob- 
bish manner.” 

“For my part,” answered Tessie; “I am 
still more ashamed that we treated her so ill- 
naturedly when we thought she was merely a 
protegee of Madame’s; for under those cir- 
cumstances we should have been especially 
kind to her.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MOTHERS WELCOME HOME. 

At last the joyful news came to the Mar- 
rons that grandfather had almost recovered 
from his recent illness, and, after the many 
delays and disappointments, mother was really 
coming home. What a fever of excitement 
they were all in, as the hour of her expected 
arrival drew near ! Father and the boys went 
to the railway station to meet her, but, not- 
withstanding this partition of the family en- 
thusiasm into instalments, when the carriage 
drew up before the front gate what a commo- 
tion there was, as the girls made a rush for the 
first glimpse of her sweet face. 

Before papa had a chance to assist her to 
alight May and Toosie had tumbled into the 
coach, each eager for the first kiss; a moment 
afterwards Tessie’s arms were around her and 
thus, encompassed by love and caresses, the 
dear mother was conducted in triumph up the 
walk to the front door, where Delia, her hon- 
est countenance beaming with an expansive 
smile, stood crying: 


85 


86 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


“ Oh, but it's a blessed day that brings you 
back to your own again, ma’am ! And a glad- 
some sight to behold you looking so well ! 
Sure, it’s long you have been away from us ! ” 

“ Yes, indeed, and very happy I am to be at 
home once more,” answered Mrs. Marron, 
warmly returning her affectionate handclasp. 

Chuckling with satisfaction Delia hastened 
away to serve up such a dinner as “ the 
mistress ” declared she had not seen surpassed 
in point of cookery even at the Fifth Avenue 
Hotel where she had been staying with her 
father. Meantime the boys, who, grinning 
with delight, had witnessed the enthusiasm 
of the welcome from the box of the hack, 
scrambled down, sportively disputed with 
father for the honor of carrying in the travel- 
ler’s satchel and shawl-strap, and wrested 
them from him while he was giving directions 
about the trunk. 

In the sitting-room, mother having kissed 
May and Toosie again, drew Tessie to her 
heart in a fond embrace saying with emotion: 
“ My precious daughter, what a help and 
treasure you have been to me ! ” an expression 
of affection which compensated the joyous 
girl a thousand times for all the small an- 
noyances of the past long, tedious weeks. 

Such was the happy home-coming. 

And what souvenirs mother brought for 
each and every one of the household. “ It was 
like having Christmas over again,” the chil- 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


87 


dren declared. For there were not only the 
gifts from herself, but others from grand- 
father and Aunt Emily; till, as Delia averred, 
“ the skies aerially seemed to rain presents; 
and sure, it would take a year and a day to 
tell them all ! ” 

Tessie received, with many “ohs” and 
“ ahs ” of admiration and pleasure, the beau- 
tiful Venetian necklace, and the gloves from 
Paris that fell to her share; but perhaps she 
was never more touched and pleased in her 
life than when Mrs. Marron drew from many 
wrappings of paper a roll of shimmering 
fabric, that shaded in the loveliest wa} r from 
heliotrope to violet, and, playfully casting a 
fold of the silken material about her daugh- 
ter’s shoulders, said: 

“ My dear, I appreciated your little sacrifice 
in wearing the crimson frock as it was, to 
Laura’s party, and, therefore, knowing how a 
girl longs for her first silk frock and also the 
pleasure she takes in it, I have brought you 
this.” 

“ Oh, mother, mother, how good you are ! ” 
was all the delighted girl could say, but she 
embraced the little woman ecstatically and 
then buried her face in the soft silk. 

Of course she must at once see the effect 
in the mirror; but as she contemplated the 
pretty apparition therein reflected, her smile 
faded, and turning around abruptly, she ex- 
claimed: 


88 


Mother's Welcome Home . 


“ It is awfully selfish of me to be so 
jubilant over the possession of this exquisite 
stuff. I cannot feel sorry you got it, yet I 
really do wish, mother, you had bought in- 
stead the black silk gown you have needed so 
long. It is a shame you should go without 
that gown just to deck out in gay plumage 
such a vain little peacock as I am.” 

Mrs. Marron laughed merrity, but her eyes 
were suspiciously misty as she said, patting the 
hands that were impulsively laid upon her 
own: “ Thank you for your thoughtfulness, 
love. You may, however, enjoy your simple 
silk frock to your heart’s content without fear 
of selfishness, for when Aunt Emily went 
away your father entrusted to her a commis- 
sion without my knowledge, and the result is 
a Paris gown almost too splendid for a quiet 
little woman like me.” 

“ 0 mother ! how grand ! No; nothing is 
too splendid for you,” broke in Tessie, now 
entirely happy. “ Is it in your trunk ? I am 
all impatience to see it ! ” 

* * * * 

Tessie remained at home from Miss Lang- 
don’s for several days after her mother’s re- 
turn. When she finally went back to school 
she was, of course, primed with innumerable 
subjects to be talked over with Laura. There 
were not only the presents to be described; 
Mrs. Marron’s visit to New York, as well as 
grandfather’s and Aunt Emily’s tour abroad, 


Mother s Welcome Home. 


had to be dwelt upon, and many interesting 
stories of travel to be repeated. 

“ Dear me, what a glorious time you have 
had ! ” commented Laura, as though her 
friend had been the chief actor in it all. “ It 
really seems an age since you were here. 
Nothing of interest has happened, but — yes, I 
have one piece of news for you. We are to 
have another new scholar — some one quite out 
of the ordinary — in fact no less a personage 
than a real, live Marchesa.” 

“ What is a Marchesa ? 99 demanded Tessie 
stupidly, “ a mummy or a monkey, or — ” 

“ Nonsense ! Think a moment and you will 
recollect. A Marchesa is a noble Italian lady, 
in rank above a countess.” 

“ A lady of exalted rank in Perryville ? 
Where on earth did she come from ? 99 

“ From some part of Italy, as you might 
have inferred,” replied Laura facetiously. 

“ I understand; coronets and titles are as 
numerous over there as blackberries in mid- 
summer. But how did she hear of our 
school ? ” 

“ Through some lady who was a schoolmate 
of Miss Langdon’s in Paris; the daughters of 
half the notabilities of the age must have been 
educated at that famous convent, to judge 
from the romantic histories we sometimes get 
an inkling of, and the interesting personali- 
ties of Madame’s acquaintance.” 

“ And so a genuine Marchesa is coming to 


90 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


school with plain American girls ! ” mused 
Tessie aloud. 

“ Plain, indeed ! ” echoed Laura mockingly, 
glancing around for a mirror. 

“ Laura, do not be absurd ! You know I 
intended it in the sense of untitled.” 

“ Well, every American girl is noble in her 
own right.” 

“ Stuff ! But what does it mean at all, at 
all, as Delia says ? Why is she in the United 
States ? ” 

“ Who, Delia ? Because her people thought 
this a better country to get along in than 
their own.” 

“ No, stupid; I referred to the Countess.” 

“Dor much the same reason, doubtless: 
namely, that the family exchequer is sadly 
depleted, and her ladyship’s mamma 
hopes to refill it upon this side of the 
Atlantic.” 

“ Still, you have given me no decided infor- 
mation.” 

Laura opened her eyes very wide: “ No de- 
cided information ! ” she repeated, “ when I 
assure you that you are to have so dis- 
tinguished a schoolmate ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” replied Tessie, with an inde- 
pendent shrug of the shoulders. “ Some one 
has been hoaxing you; presently you will dis- 
cover the pretensions of the young lady to 
be a farce.” 

“ Not at all. Mr. Belotti is my authority; 


Mother's Welcome Home. 91 

he descanted upon the theme in the pauses of 
my singing-lesson this morning.” 

“ Did he say why she is coming here ? ” 

“ To study, and recite if she can, cher petit 
choux ; to be nagged by Miss Carstens, awe- 
struck by the perfections of Mary Renwick, 
and impressed by the grande manure of 
Madame.” 

“ No, but, seriously — ” 

“ Well, then, Mile. Ingenue, it appears that 
her mother, a rather dashing widow, and also 
a titled lady of course, has been creating quite 
a sensation among the fashionable set in New 
York and elsewhere, and one of our nabobs is 
going to marry her. Under these circum- 
stances, mamma finds the Marchesa a trifle in 
the way, and has arranged to have her come 
to Miss Langdon for a while upon the plea of 
improving her knowledge of English. When 
the date of the marriage is decided no doubt 
la Signorina will be invited home to give her 
consent.” 

“ Laura, you ridiculous girl — ” 

“ Are you satisfied now ? ” 

“ Yes, and curious, I must admit.” 

“ Your curiosity shall soon be appeased; she 
is expected to-morrow.” 

Thanks perhaps to Professor Belotti’s re- 
portorial abilities, the intelligence had already 
spread through the school and the new r arrival 
was anticipated with either amused or eager 
interest. 


92 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


“What do you suppose the Marchesa will 
he like ? ” asked little May Marron, as she 
tripped homeward beside Tessie and her 
friends. 

“Like Golden Hair, when she struck the 
three bears dumb with admiration/’ hazarded 
Emily Carrington. 

“ Or else decked out in white satin and 
jewels, like Cinderella going to the ball/’ sur- 
mised Laura. 

“ Only possibly she may wear a gold coronet 
instead of a hat/’ added Irene. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” ejaculated the little maid in 
round-eyed wonder, making up her mind to 
be on hand for the first glimpse of the 
stranger. 

If the older pupils had no such extravagant 
anticipations, nevertheless, with few excep- 
tions, each in imagination limned for herself 
a more or less pleasing picture of the expected 
new scholar, and several even quietly resolved 
to cultivate the friendship of the Marchesa 
without delay. 

“ Of course she will be beautiful, or at least 
of distinguished manners and bearing,” said 
Emily, with an air which might lead one to 
suppose she had spent her life mainly in the 
society of illustrious personages. 

“ I am just dying to see her frocks,” owned 
Laura; “ the Professor mentioned incidentally 
that she spent the autumn in Paris.” 

“ Ah, we shall be sure to obtain the latest 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


93 


styles from her, then/’ continued Irene; “as 
she is to board here, Miss Langdon has had 
the blue room at the head of the stairs pre- 
pared for her. I hope she will find the lovely 
nook, with its chintz-covered furniture and 
pretty lace curtains, suited to her taste.” 

The next afternoon during recreation a car- 
r'jge rattled up the street and came to a stop 
before the old mansion. Little May spied it 
from one of the windows, and the news 
quickly reached the other pupils, who were 
promenading in the long corridor or gallery. 

What more natural than that several, 
audacious enough to brave Miss Langdon’s re-, 
proving frown, should saunter towards the 
front hall to witness the reception ? Annette, 
the white-capped, bright-eyed mulatto wait- 
ress, opened the door, and extended her small 
silver tray for the cards of the visitors, but it 
was the coachman who brushed past her, al- 
most knocking the tray from her hand, and 
depositing various pieces of luggage in the 
middle of the floor. Then there swept by a 
tall, handsome woman, whom Annette ush- 
ered into the parlor. 

“ The mother,” whispered Laura to Irene, 
in the recess of a window, where they had 
paused as if by chance. 

The handsome woman was followed by an 
overgrown, awkward figure. 

“ Her maid ? ” conjectured Irene; “ now 
for our Signorina herself.” 


94 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


But no one else followed, and Annette shut 
the hall door with a bang, making a grimace 
at the coachman behind it. The two girls ex- 
changed glances. Could that gawky creature 
in the dowdy frock, ill-fitting jacket, cotton 
gloves, and a hat of last year’s mode be the 
Marchesa ? 

Whatever doubts they might have enter- 
tained upon the subject were speedily ter- 
minated, however, for the older lady soon 
went away again in the carriage, and presently 
Miss Langdon came out of the parlor with the 
young stranger, and introduced her to the 
pupils as Miss Olivia Parmesano. Neverthe- 
less, before they could make much progress 
towards acquaintance, the bell rang for after- 
noon class, and Miss Parmesano was conducted 
to her room by Annette, in order that she 
might rest after her journey from New York 
and dispose her belongings. 

On the way back to the study room 
the older girls encountered little May curled 
up on one of the broad window-ledges of 
the corridor, and shedding tears of vexa- 
tion. 

" You mean cheats, to tell me such a string 
of nonsense ! ” cried the child. 

"Well, how did I know how a Marchesa 
would look ? I never saw one before, either/’ 
said Irene, laughing. 

“ I do not believe she is a real Marchesa at 
all,” grumbled May. 


Mother's Welcome Home. 


95 


“ Oh, yes, she is; I heard Miss Langdon say 
so to Miss Carstens,” maintained Emily. 

“ But Madame called her Miss Parmesano ” 
“ Because she is supposed to he among us 
incognito,” ventured Laura facetiously. 

May looked properly impressed; the idea of 
the incognito appealed to her fancy, and con- 
soled her for the discovery that the Marchesa 
was only an unprepossessing, overgrown girl, 
after all. 


CHAPTER IX. 


SIGNORINA AND PRINCESS. 

No chatelaine who ever graced an ancestral 
hall was animated by a prouder, haughtier 
spirit than Miss Olivia Parmesano, Marchesa 
di Niente, or “ Livvy,” as a number of her 
schoolmates insisted upon calling her. 

“Her ladyship need not think she is going 
to rule over us,” asserted Laura, discussing 
the newcomer with her friends. “ If she does 
not intend to treat us with due respect, she 
may anticipate being paid back in her own 
coin.” 

“Miss Langdon told me once that a prin- 
cess who was at school with her in Paris was 
the most gentle and considerate for others of 
all the pupils,” volunteered Tessie. 

“ Yes, Madame says Olivia is simply spoiled, 
and we ought to prove to her, by our own un- 
failing politeness, that the true American lady 
needs no patent of nobility. Or better still, 
that the courtesy of the Catholic girl and 
woman should be modelled upon the imitation 
of Our Blessed Lady,” suggested Mary Ren- 
wick with diffidence. 

The words did not fail of their effect, al- 
though Emily Carrington hastened to bridge 


Signorina and Princess. 


97 


over the momentary pause, observing in her 
dry, humorous way: 

“ Oh, well, my mother does not send me 
here to teach the Marchesa how to behave, 
and la Signorina (or whatever they call her 
in la bella Italia) had better mend her man- 
ners— else my resolutions to be forbearing and 
all the rest will be broken almost as fast as 
I can make them. I do hope the marriage of 
the widow and the nabob will come olf soon, 
so Livvy may be spirited away to Europe 
again; for no doubt, being a nabob, her pro- 
spective stepfather affects to consider this 
country hardly interesting enough to live in 
for long at a time/’ 

Ungainly and awkward, with sallow com- 
plexion, expressionless black eyes, and a mop 
of curly dark hair hanging about her shoul- 
ders, Olivia, notwithstanding her plain appear- 
ance and homely gowns, exerted a kind of 
influence among the girls — an influence that 
differed in accordance with their own disposi- 
tions and characters. 

To Laura she was another revelation that 
modish frocks do not always constitute the 
principal claim to distinction, even in fashion- 
able society. To others she was always the 
Marchesa, and they either stood a little in awe 
of her or strove to be on good terms with her 
accordingly ; the more independent, like 
Tessie and Emily, merely laughed at her queer 
ways and resented her assumption of superior- 


98 


Signorina and Princess. 


ity, while quiet Mary lienwick found her a 
curious study; for to Mary (who had spent so 
much of her short life without young friends), 
the companions of her school-days still pos- 
sessed something of the interest of story-book 
heroines. 

But Miss Parmesano, as sue was called by 
her teachers, contracted no particular friend- 
ships and held aloof from all as far as possible. 
Meantime the reputation of Miss Langdon’s 
school increased, and she began to have more 
applications than she could accept from par- 
ents who wished to place their daughters with 
her as boarding pupils. One day, late in the 
winter, another singular personality appeared 
upon the scene. 

It was the hour of recreation, and the pupils 
were promenading by threes and fours in the 
garden of the old mansion. Suddenly Madame 
came out of the house. Her long cloak, and the 
scarf of black lace which she had hastily 
donned as a head-covering, gave her a 
madonna or nun-like appearance ; but the 
young people scarcely noticed what a charm- 
ing picture she made, so engrossed was their 
attention by the apparition at her side. 

“ Is this an Eskimo I see before me ? ” 
apostrophized Emily in mingled amusement, 
and astonishment. “ Who shall we have here 
next ? For a select school the selection of 
pupils in this establishment is assuredly most 
extraordinary ! ” 


Signorina and Princess. 


99 


The young person who accompanied Ma- 
dame was enveloped in a coat of gray astra- 
khan, and wore a cap of the same fur. She was 
straight as an arrow, and her black hair fell 
on her neck — not in a bushy mass like 
Olivia's, but in straggling locks, which clever, 
sharp-tongued Emily compared to the serpent 
tresses of Medusa. The newcomer was good- 
looking, nevertheless, with bright hazel eyes, 
and a brunette complexion, that now, in the 
giiTs excitement at meeting so many stran- 
gers, deepened to a rich, warm tint. 

“ An Indian, as we are alive ! ” exclaimed 
Laura; “a composite of Pocahontas, Minne- 
haha, and the rest ! ” It was a real disap- 
pointment when they caught her name as 
Madame repeated it to Miss Carstens, the 
teacher in charge. 

“ Eva Thompson ? How commonplace ! I 
expected it would be something as musical as 
Coaina, at least/’ said Tessie. 

When, after their walk in the fresh, clear 
air, the bevy of girls returned to the study- 
room, many curious eyes wandered in the di- 
rection of the new scholar, to note how she 
appeared divested of her polar wrap. An- 
other sensation was the result, for the attire of 
the unique Miss Thompson was a study in 
color that would have delighted the soul of 
an artist, but was, as Emily expressed it, 
“ rather too striking outside of a picture 
frame.” The gaudy frock and the yellow rib- 


100 Signorina and Princess. 

bon that kept the elf-like locks back from her 
intense face were odd enough, but strangest 
of all was the string of amber beads, each twice 
the size of a pea, which she wore tightly 
clasped about her dark but well-formed 
throat. 

The young stranger was manifestly in- 
debted to the race of Minnehaha for the 
singular beauty which her critics, diverted 
by her fantastic apparel, in no wise appreci- 
ated. 

“ What a guy ! ” giggled Emily to Tessie. 

“ Oh, don’t ! ” begged the latter. “ You 
know we agreed at the last meeting of 
our ‘ Gentle Words Society * not to make 
derogatory remarks about our neighbors.” 

Before the close of the day Eva was as much 
at home as though she had been a boarder at 
Miss Langdon’s since the school opened. By 
no means afflicted with shyness, and pleased 
to be the centre of attraction, she told her 
history unreservedly. 

“My mother,” she said, “was an Indian 
girl named Gentle Fawn, who, having been 
sent to school in the East, returned to her 
people as a teacher. Gentle Fawn was very 
pretty, and soon after her return she was mar- 
ried to a brave and good paleface, a young 
agent of the Government at the reservation. 
I do not remember her, for she died when I 
was very young, but my father and I have al- 
ways been devoted to each other.” 


Signorina and Princess. 101 

This romantic story was received, of course, 
with much interest. Encouraged by the rapt 
attention with which her auditors hung upon 
her words, Eva, only stopping to draw breath, 
proceeded to embellish and arid to the facts in 
a manner which certainly contributed greatly 
to the picturesqueness of the narrative; and 
although several among her listeners shrugged 
their shoulders and looked incredulous, 
others accepted the tale in all seriousness, at 
least for the nonce. 

“ When I was still a small child,” she ran 
on, “ there was trouble at the reservation and 
a whole band of Indians took their departure, 
going far into the wilds. Before long my 
nurse, an old squaw, stole after them, taking 
me with her. I can just recollect that she 
carried me strapped on her shoulders like a 
pappoose, around the mountain, by wood and 
ravine, across stream and torrent, to the en- 
campment of the disaffected tribe, who wel- 
comed her with joy and chose me as their 
queen — for my mother was the granddaugh- 
ter of one of their famous chiefs.” 

“ Great Scott ! Another lady of exalted 
rank ! ” ejaculated Laura, in an aside to 
Tessie; “after a while it will be a novelty to 
find a girl in this school who has not a title 
of distinction — •” 

“ Pocahontas was not a circumstance to this 
gentle savage, it appears. Oh, for a lodge in 
some vast wilderness, a mat of rushes and a 


102 


Signorina and Princess. 


pair of moccasins ! ” interjected the irrepress- 
ible Emily. 

“And did you really stay there and rule 
over the Indians ? ” asked little May Marron 
of the stranger, whom she had been regarding 
with round-eyed wonder. 

“ Yes, for two years, until my father found 
me and carried me home with him. He had 
to regain possession of me by stratagem, and 
when they discovered that their Queen had 
been made away with there was a rumpus, I 
can tell you; a regular outbreak that extended 
to other tribes, and the military had to be 
called out to put them down.” 

“What is the word for Eva in the Indian 
language ? ” inquired May, properly im- 
pressed. 

“ Fudge, Miss Simplicity ! My name among 
them was not Eva, but — ■” for the first time the 
narrator paused. Was it her inventive faculty 
or merely her memory that momentarily 
failed ? Or did she fear, perhaps, that the 
revelation might destroy her quickly acquired 
prestige ? “ Well,” she added presently with 
a laugh, “ my name among them was 
Wopsiewahwah.” 

“ Hurrah for Wopsie ! ” cried mischievous 
May, dancing down the room. 

The cheer was taken up by the lively older 
girls, and thus, amid merriment and applause, 
Wopsie made her entrance into school-life at 
Miss LangdonY 


CHAPTER X. 


AN ABORIGINAL CELEBRATION. 

To the majority of the girls Wopsie’s pre- 
tensions were a huge joke, but chief among 
those who regarded them seriously was, 
strangely enough, the haughty Olivia. 

“ Hid you ever ! ” said Emily Carrington to 
Laura one day : “ it is the best comedy on 
record; la Marchesa has taken up with Poca- 
hontas in dead earnest as the only one in the 
school whose social rank approaches her own. 
Is it not ridiculous ? ” 

“ Oh, of course ! they stand upon a higher 
plane than the rest of the world,” responded 
Laura ironically. “ But surely our royal 
aborigine has the advantage, for, while Olivia 
claims to he merely a marchioness, Wopsie, ac- 
cording to her own account, is a crowned 
queen.” 

In truth Olivia had unbent wonderfully 
towards the stranger from the Far West. Be- 
fore she came to the United States her notions 
of America and Americans had been very 
vague. Once, during her early days at Miss 
Langdon’s, the geography class was nearly 
convulsed with laughter over her announce- 


104 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

ment that San Francisco was a suburb of 
Chicago; another time she inquired with some 
concern if the bears and buffaloes ever came 
out of the woods in the vicinity of Perryville 
and walked about the town. 

She had supposed the Indians still formed 
a considerable proportion of the population of 
the country, and the discovery that the small 
“ remnant of the mighty race ” now remain- 
ing lived apart, on reservations, only gave a 
more decided form to her admiration of them. 
“Attila” was her favorite romance, and she 
had stumbled through portions of the musical 
verse of the story of Minnehaha, in reading 
English with her governess. Consequently 
when Wopsie, the living representative of 
these beautiful daughters of the forest, ap- 
peared upon the commonplace scene of her 
Perryville surroundings, Olivia congratulated 
herself, for Wopsie, she decided, was best 
fitted to be her companion. 

The two girls were soon upon the best of 
terms, both being boarders at the school. No 
one, however, was more amused than Wopsie 
at Olivia’s respect for her supposed rank 
among the semi-civilized and wandering 
people she had known in early childhood. 

The Marchesa would fain have kept her 
chosen associate all to herself. 

“ I pray you make not friends with zese no- 
bodies, you who are true American of ze old 
race/’ she urged. “ To make companion of 


An Aboriginal Celebration. 105 

zem is not for your dignity nor mine. We be 
together, we two, by descent and nature, apart 
from all ze rest.” 

This was too much for Wopsie, who silently 
shook with laughter. 

“ Ees eet not so ? ” demanded Olivia per- 
emptorily. 

“ Oh, yes, to be sure, I like to have you for 
my friend,” Wopsie answered as soon as she 
could trust herself to speak. “ But, you see, 
a little over a hundred years ago the Declara- 
tion of Independence pronounced all the 
people of this country free and equal. Being 
a foreigner, you may act as you please, but it 
would never do for me to be too exclusive.” 

So la damina di qualita was forced to resign 
herself to what she was pleased to designate 
the requirements of Wopsie’s position as an 
American princess in this degenerate age. 

“ Livvy is immensely entertaining when she 
gets upon her high horse of noblesse oblige ,” 
Wopsie confided to Tessie Marron. “ It is as 
good as the minstrels, or a stage farce, to hear 
her. But at other times it is a bit dull to go 
with her altogether.” And quiet and dulness 
being what Wopsie most abhorred, she soon 
became a leader in all the school larks and 
escapades. 

* * * * 

It was now February, and the next Wednes- 
day would be Washington’s Birthday. Miss 
Langdon had announced that the pupils 


106 An Aboriginal Celebration . 

might spend the day at the school and have 
conge, or, in plain English, the freedom of the 
dear old house, with permission to make as 
merry as they pleased. Tessie and several of 
her friends stood in the long corridor discuss- 
ing various plans for the celebration of the 
day. 

"We might get up charades,” proposed 
Laura, whose spirits had revived of late since 
her father’s affairs had begun to look brighter, 
and there was every indication that he would 
be able to extricate himself from his financial 
difficulties. 

“ Or it would be great sport to play cache 
cache, hide-and-seek, with the players divided 
into two bands or parties, you know,” said 
Emily. 

“ Yes, only in that case there would be such 
a hubbub and commotion, Madame might 
fancy a band of wild Indians had come to steal 
Wopsie away again,” objected Mary Ken wick, 
with a laugh. 

“ Well, charades would be entertaining,” 
pronounced Tessie. 

“ I’ll tell you what would be grand ! ” cried 
Wopsie herself, coming up at that moment. 
" Suppose we present a picture of American 
life in the early days of the Colonies; didn’t 
T hear somebody mention Indians, just 
now ? ” 

The girls looked disconcerted, but no one 
replied. 


An Aboriginal Celebration. 107 

“Yes, we must have Indians; it would be 
so interesting for la Marchesa, for instance.” 

Wopsie’ s eyes sparkled as the notion un- 
folded itself to her fertile fancy. Plotting in- 
nocent mischief was her specialty. 

“ What do you say ? ” queried Emily, after 
they had gayly agreed to consider any plan 
she might favor or bring forward, provided it 
was not too wild or extravagant. 

“ Oh, I don’t know — Let me think. As 
it will be a national holiday, we ought to com- 
memorate an incident in United States his- 
tory, and thus introduce the aborigines.” 

There was a short pause, during which the 
. girls set their wits to work. 

“ I have it ! ” suddenly concluded Wopsie 
jubilantly, but almost in a whisper. “ There 
was the Boston Tea Party, where the patriots, 
disguised as Indians, forced their way into the 
English ships and threw overboard the cargo 
of taxed tea. Suppose we give a reception 
after the same style ? Those staid worthies 
have been glorified ever since for their clever- 
ness in imposing upon the domineering for- 
eigner; why should we not follow their ex- 
ample ? ” 

“ Oh, Wopsie, you are too ridiculous ! ” 
laughed Tessie, in the same low tone. “ The 
project is a splendid one, however, for in ad- 
dition to the opportunity it offers to impress 
la Signorina it will admit of our entertaining 
the whole school by a novel afternoon tea.” 


108 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

“ It would certainly add to the eclat to have 
refreshments,” said Laura. 

“ Yes, yes, let us serve tea in dainty little 
cups, and have cake,” seconded Emily. 

“ And doughnuts — that toothsome Colonial 
delicacy which has never gone out of fashion, 
among girls and boys, anyhow,” added Tessie. 
“ Delia makes delicious doughnuts, and I have 
learned how to cook them myself, too; I can 
promise to bring a good-sized basketful.” 

“Do, then,” rejoined Wopsie ecstatically. 

A conference ensued upon the edibles, 
china, etc., to be provided, each girl agreeing 
to furnish something for the feast. 

“ But we must keep the plan a complete 
secret,” cautioned Wopsie, “ otherwise half of 
the fun would be lost. To-morrow after school 
come to my room; you know it is on the floor 
above Livvy’s and quite out of the way. We 
will there decide about our costumes and set- 
tle all details.” 

“ Grand ! Mum’s the word ! ” cried Irene 
Wier, with her finger on her lips. 

The others imitated the gesture in token 
of the bond between them; forthwith they 
tiptoed to the clothes-press, secured their 
jackets and hats and went quietly home; all 
but Wopsie, who shut herself in her own room 
to ransack her bureau for articles or trinkets 
that might be available for the project. For 
several days following the plotters were 
quietly busied, and, it must be admitted. 


An Aboriginal Celebration . 109 

found some difficulty in keeping their minds 
on their lessons during the hours of study and 
class. 

* * * * 

On the morning of Washington’s Birthday 
the sun rose gloriously, as if willing to do all 
in its power to enhance the brilliancy of the 
national celebration. It was a perfect winter’s 
day, the air being crisp, clear, and cold, and 
although there was no snow on the ground, 
the Marron boys, who made an early excursion 
to the lake, reported the skating all that could 
be desired. 

But the novelty of spending a part of the 
holiday at Miss Langdon’s proved the chief 
attraction for the majority of her pupils. Be- 
times in the afternoon they gathered in the 
old mansion, accordingly, and, amid games, 
dancing, and romping, merriment reigned su- 
preme. The rumor that there was to be a 
play, or at least some kind of dramatic repre- 
sentation, added the pleasure of anticipation 
to their enjoyment. No one knew exactly 
what it was to be, the little air of mystery was 
very fascinating, and curiosity was soon 
wrought up to the highest pitch. Even the 
usually indifferent Olivia became excited and 
impatient for the coming disclosure. 

“ Wopsiewahwah has to me a degree of ze 
scheme unfolded,” she condescended to in- 
form Mary Renwick, who, having been absent 
a day or two and, consequently, unable to at- 


110 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

tend rehearsals, had been obliged to resign her 
part in the program. 

Mary smiled and asked: “Are you quite 
sure ? Perhaps it was only a pretence/’ 

“ Wopsiewahwah would with me pretend 
never,” returned the Marchesa haughtily. 
“ No; it ees — there can no harm be in saying 
now — it ees zat she ees to present as a picture 
’er life before she came here, ze life you all 
’ave in America lived one ’undred year ago.” 

Mary, turning away, buried her face in her 
handkerchief to hide her amusement. Pres- 
ently came the tinkle of the school-bell, so 
often heard with reluctance, but now so wel- 
come. In response to its summons the girls, 
large and small, thronged to the study-room. 

But what a transformation had been here 
effected ! The desks had vanished, and in 
their place was a young forest of fir-trees that, 
like Aladdin’s palace, seemed to have sprung 
up in the night. Soft music floated on the 
air. The scene was lighted solely by the dim 
red glow of a camp-fire burning before the 
door of a picturesque wigwam hung with buf- 
falo-skins and mats. 

Breaking into a chorus of delighted “ ohs,” 
the spectators pressed forward, but soon found 
their progress interrupted by a rope barrier 
stretched across the room. Mary kept close 
to Olivia, wishing to have the full benefit of 
her impressions. “ I must this well note for 
the book I will one day about America write,” 


An Aboriginal Celebration . Ill 

she stated gravely. While she spoke the music 
changed to a minor key, and took on an ele- 
ment of wildness; there was a rustling noise 
at the farther end of the room, and straight- 
way from ambush sprang a band of menacing 
Indians, brandishing tomahawks, and glaring 
fiercely at the assembly. The younger specta- 
tors screamed and there was a stampede for 
the door; several of the older girls also beat a 
hasty retreat. 

The desired sensation having been created, 
however, the order of exercises was all at once 
changed. The harmonies grew glad again as 
the singing of birds in primeval woods, and 
a voice that sounded like Emily’s said reas- 
suringly: 

“ Friends and allies, you have nothing to 
fear. Come forward again, therefore, and the 
beautiful Iroquois maiden, Irenehaha, will 
pass the pipe of peace.” 

Thereupon stepped forth from the semi- 
darkness into the light of the fire a tattooed 
damsel, clad in a motley-colored tunic and 
skirt, with a scarlet blanket draped from her 
shoulders. An enormous feather head-dress 
and large hooped earrings completed her 
adornment. In her left hand she carried an 
adobe bowl, while her right held a pipe with 
a stem a yard long. 

“ JJna pi pa ! ” murmured the Signorina; 
“ze cigaretta I know — yes — in my country 
some ladies — well, zey a little cigaretta puff , 


112 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

puff , perhaps; but ees eet indeed true zat 
your grandmozzers did ze pipa smoke ? ” 

“ No, no/’ protested Mary, with a horrified 
laugh. “ Wait and you will see.” 

Meantime the mysterious voice, that pro- 
ceeded apparently from the heart of the wood, 
continued: 

“ Yes, Irenehaha will pass the pipe of 
peace, but, as a concession to the prejudices of 
the fair palefaces against the smoking 4 of the 
herbs and leaves of fragrance, the tobacco 
from the South land/ he it known the pipes 
are intended only for the blowing of soap 
bubbles. Many pipes will he passed, and who- 
ever blows the largest bubble from this foam- 
ing bowl shall be most pleasing in the eyes 
of our Queen Wopsiewahwah ! ” 

There was a general giggle; only Olivia pre- 
served her gravity, half believing that the 
audience were invited to take part in some 
aboriginal rite. 

“ Ugh ! 99 responded Irenehaha, proceeding 
to distribute the pipes with solemn formal- 
ity. The light from the chandeliers now 
flashed upon the scene, and the fun began in 
earnest; there arose a babel of merry voices, 
with moments of silence as each of the com- 
pany strove to blow the greatest bubble, warn- 
ing off her companions with emphatically im- 
ploring gestures, and watching with admira- 
tion the airy sphere expanding and scintillat- 
ing at the end of her pipe, or floating away, too 


An Aboriginal Celebration. 


113 


soon, alas, to fade into nothingness. And all 
the while, dumb and imperturbable, the 
strange Iroquois maiden moved here and 
there, noting all, and blowing by far the most 
beautiful bubbles herself. At last, shaking 
with suppressed mirth, she paused before 
Olivia, who had not taken part in the scram- 
ble. 

“ Oh, ha ! ” cried the Marchesa, peering 
into the dusky face: “ Irene, eet ees indeed ! 
Ah, ah, very clever, of a truth; was eet so your 
grandmozzer she look ? As for ze blow — I 
know not if I can.” She accepted the pipe, 
however. “ Puff, puff — ah, eet ees not like to 
ze cigaretta.” 

“ No,” agreed Irenehalia laconically, but 
with twinkling eyes. 

The Signorina made one or two more 
ludicrous attempts. 

“ Ah, non ! ” she repeated, throwing away 
the pipe, “ ze Europeana ees not to ze manner 
born, as your Shakespeare say.” 

After much active competition, small May 
Marron was declared the victor in the soap- 
bubble contest. 

Now the lights grew dim again and even 
the red glimmer of the camp-fire died down 
so that the room was left almost in dark- 
ness. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” demanded 
the girls. But even as they spoke it grew 
bright, this time revealing the interior of the 


114 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

wigwam, with Queen Wopsie seated upon a 
low couch purporting to he covered with buf- 
falo-skins — although a nearer inspection 
would have revealed sundry familiar seal coats 
and capes. The flowing tresses of the dusky 
princess were, like those of Irenehaha, 
crowned with a formidable array of feathers. 
She wore a parti-colored costume, which 
gradually resolved itself into a sky-blue dress- 
ing-gown, a plaided shawl, and a yellow table- 
cover. About her neck was twined in many 
rows a long string of crystal beads, and upon 
her feet were elaborately embroidered moc- 
casins. The savage beauty of her dark fea- 
tures was heightened by the dash of carmine 
upon cheeks and lips; in short she fully real- 
ized Olivia’s ideal of an untutored daughter 
of the forest. 

By a royal gesture of command, the queen 
signed to little May to take the place near her 
on the divan, saying: “ It is meet you should 
sit beside me, for you also are a queen, and 
reign supreme in the fairyland of bubbles.” 

The child shrank back with lialf-timorous, 
half-amused reluctance, however; Wopsie did 
not press the point, but, turning to a second 
attendant who appeared at this moment from 
among the firs, the Indian princess continued 
with a wave of the hand: 

“ Emiliwanda, explain to our friends and 
allies the nature of the celebration which they 
have honored with their presence.” 


An Aboriginal Celebration . 115 

Emiliwanda advanced. The details of he? 
attire comprised all the bright shades known 
to the dyer's art, upon a foundation of orange- 
colored flannel; her necklace was of shells and 
alligator’s teeth; over her shoulder was slung 
a quiver of arrows, and she carried a bow, like 
a typical Indian amazon. Mounting a chair, 
she began to declaim upon the subject of the 
Boston Tea Party, keeping her eyes fixed on 
Olivia the while, and in her eloquence quite 
surpassing all previous orators, and beggaring 
the descriptions of all former historians or 
romance writers — at least so said the audience, 
who listened with breathless attention and at 
the close broke into tumultuous applause. 

Emiliwanda bowed low, and withdrew. 
Wopsiewahwah again waved her hand: “ Tes- 
siekee and Lauraqua,” cried she, “ attend to 
the entertainment of our guests.” 

Immediately a third Indian attendant ap- 
peared, bearing a tray of dainty cups of tea; 
and after her came still another carrying a 
basket piled high with golden doughnuts, 
which she deftly passed and then flitted away, 
to return anon with cookies and candies. The 
gas-jets were turned up full blaze, and the 
guests ventured nearer, convinced that the 
belle sauvage who provided such delectable 
refection must be amicably disposed towards 
them. The rope barrier was broken down, 
and gradually the bronze-red faces of the 
bizarre queen and her companions became 


116 An Aboriginal Celebration. 

less strange. Beneath the coloring of burnt 
sienna and the lavish prinking with more 
garish pigments the spectators were able to 
recognize not only the familiar lineaments of 
Wopsie, but the features of Irene, Laura, 
Tessie, and Emily. And none seemed to ap- 
preciate and enjoy it all more than Olivia, 
MarchesadiNiente. She studied the costumes, 
toyed with the baubles worn by the Indian 
maidens, and was delighted with the wigwam 
— even although a closer view revealed it to be 
but a clever combination of commonplace 
window draperies, mats, and fur rugs. 

Unfortunately the best of good times must 
come to an end. All too soon the old clock in 
the hall struck six, and the party broke up 
after thanking their strange hostesses for the 
diversions of the afternoon. La Signorina 
was the last to offer her congratulations. 

“Eet was charming indeed,” she affirmed, 
with condescending graciousness. “ And I am 
to you indebted for this so true picture of ze 
early American life and manners. So thus 
eet was you people here did live one ’undred 
year ago ? Ze dress ees festive, and ze little 
dough cakes are not bad; more sweet zan ze 
tortillas of ze Mexican for an instance. I 
will put zem, ze toothsome littler dough cakes, 
in my book/’ 

But ere she could say more the Indians 
dashed precipitately away, and possibly the 
hilarious outbreak which presently awoke the 


An Aboriginal Celebration. 117 

echoes of the corridor was also set down in 
the Signorina’s chronicle of the wonderful ex- 
periences of her sojourn in the United States. 

“ What absurdity ees eet now ? Zese 
Americana, ’ave zey — what ees ze name ? — 
ah, yes — ? ave zey ze ’ighstricks [hysterics] ? ” 
she soliloquized, and betook herself to the se- 
clusion of the little blue nook above the hall 
door, where she could reflect undisturbed over 
the events of the day. 

“ What fun, girls ! 99 cried Wopsie, as soon 
as she could speak for laughing. “ Who ever 
imagined that Livvy would take our mas- 
querading all in earnest ? I thought she would 
see the hoax at once and join in the sport. 
Oh, dear, oh, dear ! Well, anyhow, our 
American Tea Party has been a success from 
beginning to end.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE LITERACY CLUB. 

It was not long, however, ere Olivia dis- 
covered the true nature of the Washington 
Birthday celebration, and, aroused at what she 
was pleased to consider a special indignity to 
herself, her resentment was extreme, espe- 
cially against Wopsie. 

“ And you, mees,” she almost screamed, 
after an exhibition of temper as much beyond 
the average of schoolgirl petulance as was her 
assumption of superiority above their claim 
to social distinction — “you *ave forfeit my 
regard forever. I credit not you are a real 
princess; you are but like ze ozzers.” 

“ Thanks,” retaliated Wopsie, sarcastically. 
“ I have never been so proud as to wish to 
look down on others, and I am quite willing 
to leave j^ou alone in your glory. So, addio 
and buona fortuna , Signorina.” 

“ Farewell, a long farewell to all my great- 
ness,” she ejaculated a few moments later, 
shutting herself into her own room. 

And yet, presently, as she flitted about, 
flourishing a feather duster that had been 
118 


The Literary Club. 


119 


robbed to eke out the plumage of the Indian 
head-dresses, her smile grew a trifle bitter. 
For Wopsie was conscious that, although con- 
sidered a lively companion during recreation 
hours, she was not genuinely a favorite with 
all of her schoolmates. 

“ Pshaw ! 99 she continued to herself; “ I do 
not care a straw for Olivia’s affected supe- 
riority, but I do want to be popular, and to 
be esteemed one of the cleverest girls of the 
school ! 99 

Of her cleverness there could be no doubt. 
She now contested closely with Tessie Marron 
and Mary Renwick for the honors of Miss 
Carstens’ class. But it was not the ambition 
to attain first rank so much as an idle vanity, 
an overanxiety to attract attention for the 
moment, to . surprise by a meteor-like bril- 
liancy rather than to shine steadily as a star 
of the first magnitude in the firmament of 
school-life, that was to be poor Wopsie’s un- 
doing. 

The Literary Club was a social organization 
among the girls at Miss Langdon’s. Madame 
herself was honorary president, and the meet- 
ings were held every second Friday afternoon 
in her own parlor. A chance to gain a place 
in this pleasant circle was offered to the 
pupils of the higher classes twice during the 
year; the aspirant wrote an essay upon a given 
subject, and if the composition proved up to 
a certain standard the writer was forthwith 


120 


The Literary Club. 


received into the club. Wopsie was particu- 
larly anxious to become a member, and gladly 
welcomed the opportunity announced by the 
literati shortly before the commemoration of 
the Revolutionary Tea Party. Unfortunately, 
however, notwithstanding her longing to 
shine, no one was more procrastinating than 
the Indian princess, unless it were perhaps the 
indolent Marchesa di Niente. 

“ Never do to-day what you can put off till 
to-morrow — that is my motto,” Wopsie often 
declared; her ready memory, and the facility 
with which she could dash off a composition, 
had so often served her that she was only too 
prone to leave much of her work until the 
last moment. And so it proved in this in- 
stance. She had a month in which to write 
this essay; well, there was no use in beginning 
early, as several other girls had done. Gra- 
cious ! she would thus become heartily tired 
of the theme. And then she had so many 
class tasks to make up. Mary Renwick and 
Tessie did not have to write special themes, 
being already members of the club. And it 
would not do to let them get ahead of her 
while she was cudgelling her brains for some- 
thing brilliant to say about spring — “ a 
stupid subject anyhow.” 

A fortnight slipped by. Still, there were 
two weeks left. She would work during the 
evenings and there was an extra holiday — 
Washington’s Birthday. 


The Literary Cluh. 


121 


Then came the Tea Party frolic, in prepar- 
ing for which she had forgotten all about the 
composition, so now there was only one week 
more. 

“ Well, I must go to work ! ” she exclaimed 
on this last Saturday before the meeting of 
the club, and, accordingly, having finished ar- 
ranging her room, she sat down by the win- 
dow, with pencil and an old commonplace- 
book wherein she was accustomed to scribble 
the first draft of her exercises. 

“ Come, gentle spring, ethereal mildness, 
come,” she apostrophized serio-comically, with 
pencil poised in air. “ What can I find to say 
about it that will be clever enough to suit Miss 
Langdon and the critical literati , since the 
compositions are to be read before them and 
the prize of membership is to be decided by 
their vote ? Oh, dear, why did I delay so long ? 
Spring ! 99 

She threw down the pencil and leaned back 
in her chair; her eyes grew dreamy and she 
stared at the rug on the floor without seeing 
it. Her thoughts had flown back to a time 
long ago, almost as long ago as she could re- 
member, when, a little child at the Govern- 
ment agency, she played about the door of her 
father’s plain frame house, the wonder of the 
reservation. She recalled the joy of their ab- 
original neighbors at the coming of spring, 
when, as they said, the heart of the earth 
grew more loving with the warmth of sunlit 


122 


The Literary Club. 


clays. The huts and tepees of these poor In- 
dians were indeed, in most cases, devoid of 
every need of civilization, but at this season 
all the hardships of the winter were forgot- 
ten; for did not the whole bright outdoor 
world belong to the children of the forest ? 

Oh, the happiness of those springtime 
mornings ! when the wild birds sang blithely 
from the trees, the squirrels and rabbits made 
merry in the woods, the daisies smiled from 
the pastures where were picketed the clever 
little mustang ponies; and in the blue sky 
overhead sailed the fleecy clouds, white- 
winged ships upon the aerial ocean, bearing 
away to the Great Manito the petitions of his 
people. Closing her eyes, she seemed to open 
them again upon the actual scene, to see 
reservation after reservation stretching far 
away. There were crocuses and cowslips in 
the valleys, and upon the hills beyond wind- 
flowers, hepaticas, and yellow violets. She saw 
the creek that wandered through the timber- 
land near her home, and the cliff, far up the 
side of which, in a narrow fissure, bloomed a 
little wildwood garden sown, no doubt, by the 
winds and birds. 

And then, in an idle fashion, there floated 
through her mind faint impressions of the 
still earlier time of which she had descanted so 
extravagantly to her schoolmates; — the time 
when Wankewa, the old squaw nurse, stole 
after the disaffected Indians of the tribe, tak- 


The Literary Club. 


123 


ing the little pappoose, the chirping wild-bird 
nestling of the paleface agent. She recollected 
dimly how one night during their wanderings 
Wankewa made her a tiny wickiup in a leafy 
hollow, where, sheltered from the breeze, she 
slept wrapped in a warm Indian blanket. 
After this there was a blank — a confusion of 
dusky visions, woods, prairies, and streams. 
The moon waxed and waned, and she was at 
home again. 

And thenceforth her father hardly dared to 
allow her out of his sight; whenever he went 
abroad she rode before him upon his rough- 
coated, fiery little mustang. For several years 
they continued to live at the agency, but he 
never knew peace of mind, fearing she might 
be stolen again; finally he obtained another 
Government position, and they bade good-by 
to thedr strange life at the reservation forever. 

Since those experiences the grass had 
grown many times, but how vividly that life 
came back to her now ! Again, as in a mov- 
ing picture, she saw the seamed, red-brown, 
immobile visages of the men who found the 
tilling of the soil so irksome, and so often 
made a break for their former roving ex- 
istence; the patient features of the women, 
who were still too often compelled to plant 
and hoe the corn as in the old nomadic days; 
the preternaturally grave faces of the children, 
her companions, who yet had their games and 
plays, which they followed in as weirdly sol- 


124 


The Literary Club. 


emn a fashion as though they were taking part 
in mystic rites. 

Ah, if Wopsie had only written about all 
these things ! What better contribution could 
the Literary Club have asked than these recol- 
lections, so different from those of a conven- 
tional childhood ? But, unfortunately, she 
did not realize the value of the treasure at her 
hand; she could discourse upon it in bom- 
bastic style, but she did not understand that 
to write well she had but to try to depict life 
and nature as closely as possible; this actual 
Indian life, which she had in a measure 
shared, would have seemed to her all too rough 
and mean and rude to have been taken seri- 
ously as the subject of an essay, even had the 
idea been suggested to her. And so Wopsie 
turned from her reverie, unconscious that she 
was casting aside gems of thought as unique 
and curious as the string of amber beads about 
her throat — which still seemed to hold im- 
prisoned in their clear depths something of 
the golden sunshine and the brightness of 
those springs of long ago. 

But the afternoon was drawing to a close, 
and she would have so few half-hours to work 
upon her essay during the coming week. She 
hesitated a moment, then sprang up, and after 
bolting the door of the room took from her 
pocket a key, and unlocked the drawer of the 
table at which she usually prepared the les- 
sons learned out of school hours. 


The Literary Club. 


125 


In the drawer lay a time-yellowed copy of a 
magazine, bearing a date of ten years before. 
Wopsie caught it up, turned over the leaves 
rapidly, and finally stood studying a certain 
page with critical intentness. 

“ Why not ? ” she exclaimed at length. “ If 
this were a school task or a competition, of 
course I should not even entertain the idea, 
because it would wrong some one else; but in 
this case it makes no difference — it is simply 
a matter of individual success. And who will 
be the wiser ? 99 

Thereupon, with the book open before her, 
she began to write rapidly. 

* * * * 

The day for the formal meeting of the 
Literary Club came at last. Miss Langdon 
and the committee passed upon the composi- 
tions submitted to them, and it was an- 
nounced that three of the aspirants had been 
successful. Wopsie was one of the fortunate 
trio, but then that went without saying, every- 
body attested; the girl from the “ Wild West ” 
always wrote in such a highly original 
manner. 

Wopsie was jubilant; at last she had gained 
her enthusiastic wish. She was a member of 
the club — all that remained to complete the 
assurance was the welcome to be extended by 
her friends in the association. That would 
take place in the afternoon. How she had 
looked forward to sharing in the delightful 


126 


The Literary Club. 


little reunions in Madame’s drawing-room ! 
At the usual hour the club were duly as- 
sembled there, while Wopsie in her own room 
impatiently awaited the summons to join 
them. 

Presently came a knock at her door; she 
threw it open and in the hall stood Annette, 
the young colored maid. 

“ If you please, missy, Madame done tole me 
to suggest that she wishes to speak to you 
instant er,” said the maid with her habitual 
mournful air, which -was quite out of keeping 
with the character of a bearer of agreeable tid- 
ings; hut it gratified Annette to take a tragic 
view of life. 

“ Oh, thank you for bringing the message; 
it is all right,” cried Wopsie joyfully, and 
without stopping to hear more she ran lightly 
down the stairs. 

“Huccome you in sich a hurry?” called An- 
nette, as the impetuous girl started down the 
second flight of stairs, “ Madame done wait 
on you in the little office yonder.” 

Wopsie paused surprised, albeit a moment 
of reflection reassured her. No doubt, the new 
members were to go down together, and be 
ceremoniously presented to the club. Accord- 
ingly, she turned towards the office on the 
second floor. 

Miss Carstens was, however, the only one 
with Madame. “ Come in, Eva,” said the lat- 
ter, as the girl hesitated upon the threshold; 


The Literary Club. 127 

“ I wish to have a few moments’ conversation 
with you.” 

Miss Langdon always addressed her by her 
Christian name; otherwise, Wopsie often 
laughingly questioned if she herself might 
not have forgotten it. Yet now, strangely 
enough, it made her vaguely uncomfortable, 
especially as she felt Miss Carstens’ cold gray 
eyes fixed upon her through those forbidding 
steel-rimmed spectacles. She flushed slightly, 
yet managed to return the gaze of the visibly 
nervous woman with an assumption of digni- 
fied composure. 

" I suppose you are aware, my dear,” con- 
tinued Madame, “ that you have been elected 
a member of the Literary Club ? ” 

Wopsie inclined her head and quickly re- 
covered her self-possession. 

"Your composition, although not in your 
usual vein, greatly surpassed those of the 
other aspirants in style and thought,” Miss 
Langdon went on in her clear, well-modulated 
tone, “ but I regret to say Miss Carstens has, 
a criticism to offer upon it.” 

Wopsie’s eyes had brightened with pleasure 
at the words of commendation, but now again 
she delt singularly disconcerted. 

“ What nonsense ! ” she said to herself; 
“ there is not one chance in a thousand that 
Miss Carstens — ” Then she stopped short in 
her mental colloquy, and, with a defiant toss of 
the head, stared boldly at her would-be critic. 


128 


The Literary Club. 


Miss Carstens was visibly excited. 

“ Yes, I am very sorry you happened to 
hand me the essay to read, Madame,” she be- 
gan, with a deprecating glance at her chief. 
“ It was not in my province — none of n\y 
affair at all — ■” 

“ No,” muttered Wopsie savagely, under 
her breath, “ none of your affair, and I can’t 
see why you should have anything to say 
about it.” 

“ Nevertheless, since it was, I may say, in 
a manner forced upon my notice, with words 
of personal compliment that a member of my 
class should have so well acquitted herself, et 
cetera,” pursued the little teacher, “ and 
deeply as I deplored the necessity of with- 
holding my meed of approval from the chorus 
of praise that greets one of my pupils, — a sense 
of duty — the promptings of conscience, im- 
pelled me to express to my principal my true 
opinion of Miss Thompson’s very remarkable 
essay upon spring.” 

Wopsie’s trepidation increased, but still she 
anticipated nothing more than a probable dif- 
ference with Miss Carstens. 

“ The essay is certainly beautiful,” granted 
that lady, “ although I have seen better — that 
is, less conventional work from Miss Thomp- 
son ” (here Wopsie’s eyes opened wide) ; “ she 
could have surpassed it, in some points ; 
therefore I deeply regret that she should have 
stooped to borrow the thoughts of another.” 


The Literary Club. 


129 


Wopsie’s face became a deep, dusky red: 
“ Why, Miss Carstens, what do you mean ? ” 
she said fiercely. 

“ I mean, or rather I strongly suspect — you 
copied the essay from a printed book.” 

The girl, whose self-possession had returned 
at the other’s tacit acknowledgment that she 
had not positive proof for her assertion, now 
quailed again, but she shut her lips firmly to- 
gether and haughtily regarded her unex- 
pected accuser. 

“ My dear, I trust it will prove to be all a 
mistake; Miss Carstens did right to lay her 
opinion before me, but I need only your as- 
surance that she is in error, and the essay is 
your own; for that you followed a train of 
thought which may also have occurred to 
some one else is not improbable. There are 
many instances, too, of the unconscious 
plagiarism which sometimes comes from read- 
ing up on a certain subject,” said Miss Lang- 
don earnestly. 

Still Wopsie was silent; a struggle was go- 
ing on within her heart. All she had to do 
was to say the essay was her own, and Madame 
would believe her; on the other hand, if she 
failed to do so, why, there was her member- 
ship in the club at stake — her position in the 
school — 

“ I should be very glad to have Miss 
Thompson’s assurance that I am WTong,” ac- 
quiesced Miss Carstens fussily: “ I obtained 


130 


The Literary Club. 


by degrees the impression, which I am, until 
then, forced to entertain. Upon reading the 
composition I was first struck by the fact of 
it being so unlike Miss Thompson’s usual 
style; gradually the sense that I had read 
passages from it before dawned upon me. I 
searched in the library, but found nothing like 
it; then suddenly I remembered. About a 
fortnight ago Miss Langdon chanced to say 
there were some old prints in the garret, an 
overflow from the library. I asked permission 
to look at them and she gave me the key. 
While there I happened to pick up a number 
of a periodical now extinct; in its columns I 
read the charming bit of description, which is 
so strangely similar to Miss Thompson’s essay. 
I cannot positively affirm that it is precisely 
the same — because oddly enough when I 
sought to verify my suspicion and went back 
to get the magazine I could not find it, and 
yet — is not this rather an additional proof ? ” 
“ I cannot agree with you there, Miss Cars- 
tens,” interrupted Madame somewhat sharply. 
“ In fact, I am truly sorry the matter has pro- 
ceeded so far upon such slight grounds. If 
Eva’s composition resembles the extract 
which caught your eye, I feel confident the 
similarity is due to a mere coincidence. More- 
over the garret is always kept locked and the 
key remains in my possession. The pupils 
have no occasion to go up there — the servants 
are not permitted to do so.” 


The Literary Club. 


131 


Wopsie smiled grimly. Madame was evi- 
dently on her side. 

“ My child, it is, I dare say, galling to your 
pride to be called upon to refute this unfor- 
tunate imputation, yet I know you would 
be indignant did I not afford you the op- 
portunity of doing so,” pursued Miss Lang- 
don. “ Simply your word, my dear, is all I 
ask.” 

Simply her word! And yet, alack, that was 
just what Wopsie could not give. In the 
flurry and anxiety of preparing her essay, it 
had not seemed a matter of so much moment 
to glean a paragraph here and there from the 
pages of a forgotten magazine, and omit the 
quotation marks; but now she realized that 
her attempt to impose upon others by pre- 
senting to them as her own these copied ex- 
tracts was indeed an ignoble act. 

It was a critical moment; Madame believed 
in her, Miss Carstens could be silenced by 
the answer for which Miss Langdon waited 
expectantly. Wopsie, however, shrank back 
affrighted from the pitfall yawning before 
her feet; true, she might brave it, leap across, 
and continue on along a very pleasant by- 
way, even though it was not the direct path 
in which she would walk. But, overwhelmed 
with remorse for what she had done, she sud- 
denly and stoically resolved to accept the con- 
sequences of her fault, in a spirit of atone- 
ment akin, perhaps, to that which occasionally 


132 


The Literary Club. 


called forth the admiration of the early mis- 
sionaries for the untutored savage. 

“ Madame,” she said, casting down her eyes, 
while her cheeks burned, “ I am sorry to dis- 
appoint you; Miss Carstens, you are mistaken 
in supposing the essay to have been copied 
entire; nevertheless if you wish to refresh 
your memory as to the exact wording of the 
paragraphs which seemed to you familiar, I 
shall be 'happy to oblige you with a glance 
at the magazine, which I found no doubt just 
where you left it. Miss Langdon, you have 
evidently forgotten that you allowed me to 
go to the garret in search of costumes for the 
Tea Party; I am sorry to have abused your 
confidence.” 

Miss Carstens stood aghast. Half incredu- 
lous, although her own theory was but con- 
firmed, she stared blankly at the apparently 
impassive girl; then, with the terse ejacula- 
tion, “ Well, I never! ” she hastily left the 
room. 

Without another word Wopsie also turned 
to go, but her rigid figure swayed and she 
would have fallen but for Miss Langdon’s out- 
stretched hand. 

“ My poor child,” said Madame tenderly. 
“ This is a bitter lesson for you, yet I am 
glad you had the courage to acknowledge your 
fault. You must do your best to reinstate 
yourself in Miss Carstens’ regard; and, for the 
rest, we will begin again from this hour. You 


The Literary Club. 


133 


shall have a fresh lease of my confidence and 
trust. Go to your room now and lie down, 
for I know by your flushed cheeks you have a 
blinding headache; the repose and quiet will 
do you good.” And silently putting her own 
little rosary into the hot hand of the self-con- 
fessed culprit, she sent her away with an en- 
couraging smile. 

Half an hour later Annette knocked at 
Wopsie’s door and entered without waiting 
for permission. 

“ Is your haid berry bad, missy ? ” she in- 
quired. “ Madame done ’dvised me to tote you 
up a cup of tea; she said you might not find 
yo’self composed to come down again this 
evening.” 

She meant disposed, but came nearer the 
mark than she dreamed. 

"I don’t want any tea, thank you,” said 
Wopsie gratefully, raising her aching head 
from the pillow. “ But Miss Langdon is one 
of the kindest women in the world.” 

“ Right you are, miss,” assented Annette 
with an emphatic nod, as she set down the 
tray and stole gently out again so as not to 
disturb the sufferer. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE GROWTH OF THE BRAMBLES. 

“ He who sows brambles must look well to 
his shoes.” Hapless Wopsie was soon to un- 
derstand the application of the old Italian 
proverb; for, although she had resolutely 
striven to retrace her steps, she found her way 
a very rough and thorny one, and was to learn, 
by the briery tangle of unfortunate incidents 
that seemed to spring up beneath her feet as 
the result of her foolish subterfuge, that 
“ truth is indeed the most precious harvest 
of the earth.” 

Miss Langdon, on her part, was confronted 
by a most unpleasant dilemma. Of course 
the copied composition could not be per- 
mitted to pass, and yet Madame’s kind heart 
yearned to shield unhappy Wopsie as far as 
possible, for she well knew how acutely the 
prou'd-spirited girl felt the humiliation she 
had brought upon herself. Accordingly, at 
the meeting of the Literary Club on that fate- 
ful afternoon, when Wopsie lay with her ach- 
ing head buried in her pillow, the honorary 
president merely stated that Miss Thompson 
134 


The Growth of the Brambles. 135 

had withdrawn her application to be enrolled 
as a member of the circle, and those who knew 
Madame best perceived that it would be agree- 
able to her to let the matter drop without 
further comment. 

This was very well for the time being; but 
it would have been vain to expect a bevy of 
quick-witted, restless schoolgirls to refrain 
from discussing so startling an announcement 
among themselves, later. 

“ What could have induced Wopsie to do 
such an extraordinary thing ? ” marvelled 
Irene Wier, looking much more ready to wage 
war in support of the dignity of the club, than 
to play the role of peacemaker, as her name 
implied. 

“ I do not believe she intended any dis- 
courtesy to us,” answered Tessie Marron, 
“but you know her father is coming East 
soon, and he has written that he wishes to 
take her to New York for a few days. I dare 
say, with this prospect before her, Wopsie has 
no thoughts for anything else.” 

But Tessie's kindly theory did not gain 
ground. The majority of the little coterie 
persisted in considering themselves slighted; 
a faint rumor, started no one knew exactly 
how or where (perhaps it was helped on by a 
chance word let fall by tactless Miss Carstens), 
a surmise here, a question there; at all events 
within a day or two the whole story came out. 
Then, indeed, was the indignation of the 


136 The Growth of the Brambles. 

haughty literati aroused against luckless 
Wopsie. 

“ The very idea of attempting to palm off 
on the committee a composition not her 
own ! ” cried Laura Gaines. “ Of course she 
must on no account he allowed to aspire to 
membership at any time in the future/’ 

“ I shall never speak another word to her; 
she should be made to realize how disgrace- 
fully she has acted/’ determined Irene. 

“ I’ll guarantee she realizes it keenly 
enough, in spite of the half defiant air with 
which she keeps away from us,” interjected 
Mary Ren wick. “ She seems so unlike herself; 
so listless and indifferent about her lessons, 
too; I can’t help being sorry for her.” 

This was generous of Mary, since Wopsie’s 
loss of interest meant for her the dropping 
out of the lists of a pressing competitor. 

“ Miss Langdon thinks we ought not be too 
hard on Wopsie,” added Tessie, “ for she had 
very little training until she came here, and 
her acknowledgment of her makeshift was 
really heroic; she could easily have evaded the 
avowal.” 

“ I cannot see anything very grand in re- 
fraining from a falsehood,” said Laura 
bluntly. 

“ No, and yet Madame says she could quote 
instances where the simple telling of the truth 
has required more courage than would be 
necessary for the storming of a citadel.” 


The Growth of the Brambles . 137 

“ Oh, well, it is useless to argue the point; 
at least I shall never associate with Wopsie 
again/’ and Laura stalked away with her 
head in the air. 

She had, however, but given expression to 
the sentiment of the school; for although the 
subject was not dwelt upon openly, the his- 
tory of the unlucky essay became generally 
known and Wopsie was shunned by her com- 
panions. Among them no one was ostensibly 
more shocked by the revelation than her 
whilom friend, Olivia. 

“ So deeshonorable ! ” the latter animad- 
verted many times. “ And to think I took her 
for my confidant. How she ? ave deceive me, 
too ! I believe not she is the granddaughter 
of a great chief. What a country; even your 
princesses are not real ! I shall recognize her 
no more.” 

“ Livvy has not recovered from her chagrin 
over the Washington Birthday affair, and no 
doubt this adds a double edge to the keenness 
of her sense of honor,” laughed Tessie, when 
the remarks of the young foreigner reached 
her ears. 

Tessie always felt sorry for people who were 
“ down,” so to speak, even though it were 
through their own fault. She thought Wop- 
sie’s cup of rue must be bitter enough, and 
she was not going to approve the inexorable 
pouring of gall and wormwood into it. 

“ Olivia is certainly not likely to forget the 


138 The Growth of the Brambles. 

joke played upon her, but nevertheless, she 
would naturally be exceedingly sensitive upon 
any point of honor; the nobility always are,” 
returned Irene Wier. “ I presume it is merely 
because you want to be contrary, Tessie, that 
you stand up for Wopsie, but why on this ac- 
count are you unjust to some one else ? ” 

“I do not mean to be unjust,” responded 
Tessie, and the fear that she might indeed 
have been so deterred her from saying more. 

The girls who had been concerned in the 
frolic on Washington’s Birthday assuredly 
liked Olivia less because she cherished ill-will 
against them for what they had intended 
merely as a harmless jest. But for the most 
part her schoolmates considered her sensitive- 
ness in the matter of Wopsie’s deception in 
regard to the essay, a very fine thing and, 
upon the strength of it, la Signorina became 
almost popular. The disdain she displayed 
towards her former friend was much more to 
their taste than the gentle charity counselled 
by Miss Langdon. Why, if they did not show 
their disapproval strongly, who would know 
they, too, possessed the delicate, fastidious 
shrinking from everything ignoble and mean, 
which so distinguished the Marchesa ? Who 
would understand that their ideal of truth and 
honesty was quite as high as hers ? Accord- 
ingly the outlook for Wopsie’s peace of mind 
during the remainder of the term was by no 
means promising. But even the incident of 


The Growth of the Brambles. 139 

the unlucky essay was relegated to the back- 
ground after a while, by other happenings of 
school-life. 

One of the especial accomplishments taught 
at Miss Langdon’s was fine sewing. Of so 
much importance did Madame consider this 
branch of a girl’s education, that she in- 
structed the classes herself, giving her pupils 
the benefit of the exquisite skill with the 
needle she had acquired in the old French 
convent of which she so often spoke. Tessie 
had a genuine talent for beautiful needlework 
and, having finished a sampler which exhibited 
proficiency in all the plain stitches, she 
planned something more ambitious — nothing 
less than a lace handkerchief for a birthday 
gift for her mother. 

When consulted, Miss Langdon warmly 
agreed to initiate her into the mysteries of 
the lace-making, saying: “ The work will be 
tedious, my dear, but your dear mamma will 
prize it the more because of the exercise of 
patience it will cost you.” 

So the handkerchief was begun, and Tessie 
often carried her cobwebby work home with 
her and wrought at it in secret on Saturdays 
and at odd times during the week. In the 
evening there were always lessons to be 
studied, but sometimes of a morning she rose 
earlier and thus gained a half-hour for the 
fairy-like stitching; in fact, whenever there 
was an odd moment to spare and she was un- 


140 The Growth of the Brambles. 

observed, out came the bit of lace work from 
her pocket and into it was stitched the 
precious fragment of time. 

All the girls at school were interested in 
the progress of that handkerchief towards 
completion. 

“ Show us how you are getting on, Tes- 
sie ! ” 

“ Is it not perfectly lovely ? ” 

“ I donT see how you manage to do it so 
beautifully ! 99 

“ How pleased your mother will be with it, 
especially since you are making it all by your- 
self ! ” 

Such were the frequent comments by which 
they evinced their admiration. Only Olivia 
regarded it with indifference. 

“ I care not for zese made ’ome laces,” she 
said, with a shrug of the shoulders, upon one 
occasion when she chanced to see Tessie at 
work in the recess of one of the study-room 
windows. “ If I want a handkerchief of lace, 
I shoes zat of Venice or ze lace of Genoa; zese 
of America I zink looks sheep.” 

“ Of course, there are many kinds of laces, ” 
indignantly interposed Laura, who appeared 
just in time to catch the last words of this 
ill-bred speech. “I dare say Tessie could 
learn to make the costly point as well as the 
girls of Genoa or Venice, if she wished to 
spend her life at it, and wear out her eyes in 
the bargain. But there is nothing cheap 


The Growth of the Brambles. 141 

about this handkerchief; Madame says Tessie 
could get at least twenty-live dollars for it 
if she chose to sell it. And a handkerchief 
worth twenty-five dollars is handsome enough 
for anybody.” 

“ Zat ees ze way you Americana value all 
tings; according how much zey cost, how much 
zey will bring! ” sneered the Marchesa with a 
mocking laugh, as she turned away. 

“ I did not ask her approval of my work,” 
said Tessie, in a vexed tone. 

“ No, Miss Insolence,” inveighed Laura. 
“ How I wish the nabob would hurry up the 
wedding; for surely, after the ceremony I sup- 
pose they will take la Signorina away.” 

“ Oh, have not you heard? The marriage 
is to be on the fifteenth of June, and imme- 
diately afterward the party, including Olivia, 
are to sail for Europe.” 

“ The fifteenth — and this is the last day of 
May! Well, that is news, Tessie. So we have 
only a fortnight more to enjoy the society of 
la Marc'hesa! What shall we do when she 
withdraws the light of her countenance from 
us? Well, we must only bask in the sunshine 
of her presence while we may! ” 

“ Laura, Laura, you are so sarcastic! ” 
chided Tessie, yet she could not help laugh- 
ing. 

“ Miss Langdon says sarcasm is a two-edged 
sword, and one is as apt to harm one’s self 
with it as to punish others,” returned her 


142 The Growth of the Brambles . 

friend. “ But I cannot refrain from retorting 
upon Olivia. She does exasperate me! ” 

In a few days more the beautiful handker- 
chief was finished. 

With a sigh of satisfaction Tessie detached 
it from the pattern, and exhibited it to her 
particular friends. But all the other girls 
wanted to see it, too, and quite a little group 
crowded around her in the study-room with 
congratulations and many encomiums upon 
her exquisite handiwork. 

“ It is fit for a queen,” declared Wopsie, 
towards whom her classmates were beginning 
to unbend a little. And “ fit for a queen 99 
everybody agreed it was indeed; that is, every- 
body but Olivia, who held aloof, apparently 
engrossed in trying on a pair of new gloves, 
which she expected to wear when travelling. 

As the end of the term w T as so nearly arrived, 
school discipline had been somewhat relaxed, 
but, coming into the room just then. Miss 
Langdon exclaimed: “ What, girls, taking 
your recreation in the house this lovely morn- 
ing? Away to the garden; Miss Carstens is 
waiting for you there ! 99 

“ Will Madame please ? old me excuse, I 
was going to my room. I ’ave so great much 
packing to do,” demurred Olivia. 

"Yes, as you are to leave so soon, I shall 
not require you to keep up with the school 
routine,” assented Madame. 

"I riiall be glad to go out,” owned Tessie 


The Growth of the Brambles. 143 

to one of her companions. “ I have spent 
so many recreations indoors stitching at this 
handkerchief that I really began to get ner- 
vous over it. I would not want to make 
another soon again. I am so happy that it is 
finished, and a full week before mamma’s 
birthday, too. Now all it needs is to be care- 
fully pressed with a smoothing-iron.” As She 
spoke she opened her desk, laid the handker- 
chief carefully on a pile of books, and hurried 
away to the garden with the other girls. 

“ Is not the air breezy and cool ? Let us 
have a game of some kind,” suggested Emily 
Carrington. 

“ We might play prisoner’s base,” chimed 
in Laura. 

“ There is hardly time; just at the most 
exciting moment the bell for arithmetic class 
would be sure to ring.” 

“ The new game of pass ball is interest- 
ing,” ventured Tessie. 

“ The very thing,” cried Irene. “ Wopsie, 
I thought you had a ball? ” 

“ So I have — a splendid one. I will run up 
to my room and get it.” 

She started off, and for five minutes or 
more they waited patiently. 

“ G-racious, w'hy doesn’t she come?” 
grumbled Laura at last. 

Another five minutes passed, and then she 
appeared short of breath. “ I could not find 
it at first,” she said, panting, and tossing the 


144 The Growth of the Brambles . 

ball to Tessie. They began to play straightway, 
keeping up the merry romp until summoned 
by the relentless bell. As they were late going 
in, Tessie hastily got her slate and book and 
rushed off to class. When the lesson was 
over she returned to the study-hall and opened 
her desk. After one glance into it her heart 
began to beat quickly in nervous dismay — 
the lace handkerchief was not where she had 
left it. 

“ Nonsense! how fussy I have become over 
it,” thought she. “ I must have pushed it 
out of the way in taking out my slate.” 

She searched through the desk. No, the 
handkerchief was certainly gone. 

“ Oh, well. Miss Langdon must have taken 
it in order to press it,” she concluded, trying 
to reassure herself. “ I must not allow my- 
self to become excited. 1 won’t say a word 
upon the subject to any one until I ask Ma- 
dame. It would be rather awkward to raise 
a commotion, and then find that the hand- 
kerchief was all right after all. The girls 
would think I was so foolishly conceited about 
my work, too. But, oh, dear, I hope it is safe; 
I have taken so much trouble, and grown so 
tired over it.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE QUEEN’S LACE HANDKERCHIEF. 

As soon as the lessons of the day were over, 
Tessie went at once to Miss Langdon’s little 
office. 

“ No, my dear, I did not take the handker- 
chief,” said Madame in reply to her anxious 
question. “ Buit surely it is only mislaid ! 
Perhaps you took it out of the desk again, 
yourself. Or in rummaging about you may 
have pushed it between the covers of a book, 
or overlooked it after all. What else could 
have become of it? ” 

“ I know I did not take it out again, and 
I have hunted through the desk thoroughly, 
and opened every book,” maintained Tessie, 
perplexed. 

“ Then one of the girls must have hidden 
it to tease you.” 

“ I thought of that;” Tessie’s face bright- 
ened at the supposition. 

“ It is, however, a siily and unkind jest,” 
continued Miss Langdon, a trifle annoyed, 
yet confident that she had divined aright. 
“ Perhaps to-morrow you will find the hand- 
145 


146 The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 

kerchief restored to the place where you left 
it.” 

Tessie went home somewhat reassured, but 
her dreams that night were troubled. 

In the morning she was early at school. 
Anxiety had conquered self-consciousness 
and she eagerly asked of her friends in 
turn: 

u Have you seen my lace handkerchief?” 

“ Why, no! ” 

“ Honest and true, I have not.” 

“ What! You don’t mean to say you have 
lost that lovely handkerchief ! ” 

“ When did you have it last? ” 

Such were the answers she received. Then 
would follow her flurried story: “ I left the 
handkerchief in my desk when we went out 
to the garden yesterday, and I have not seen 
it since.” 

At the study hour Miss Langdon sent for 
her and asked if she had any tidings of it. 

“No, Madame. Nobody knows anything 
about the handkerchief.” 

Madame frowned an'd compressed her lips; 
half an hour later she entered the study-room. 
The girls looked up from their tasks; they 
understood that a sensation was coming. 

“ Young ladies,” began Miss Langdon, “ the 
very beautiful and valuable lace work upon 
which Miss Marron has been engaged for 
many weeks is missing. The only plausible 
explanation of its mysterious disappearance 


The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 147 

seems to be the unfortunate tendency of some 
among you to indulge in practical jokes. The 
pupil who has had the poor taste to do so in 
this instance will please bring the handker- 
chief to me at the morning recreation. I will 
convey her apologies to the owner. If she 
has not the frankness and moral courage to 
do this, however, she may return the piece of 
needlework to Tessie’s desk before noon, and 
I will not pursue the inquiry further.” 

Tessie grew alternately hot and cold during 
this announcement, for of course all eyes 
were directed towards her. Miss Langdon 
left the room with an air of displeasure. Her 
words had aroused a flutter of excitement. 

“ Silence, if you please, young ladies,” the 
teacher in charge was obliged to demand 
more than once, and it was with difficulty 
that the pupils could fix their minds on their 
lessons. Tessie found it absolutely impossible 
to study. 

During the half-hour of recreation that fol- 
lowed it would have been an easy matter for 
the culprit to slip away and make the ex- 
pected explanation to Miss Langdon; but at 
noon the latter could give Tessie no informa- 
tion, nor had the handkerchief been restored 
to her desk. Several days passed, yet still 
there were no tidings of it. Had it really 
been stolen? Madame would hardly admit 
the supposition, Tessie herself was loath to 
believe in a theft, yet whether jester or pil- 


148 The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 

ferer, the delinquent had been given ample 
time and a favorable opportunity to return 
the missing lace, and nothing had come of 
Madame’s tactful provision. 

On the other hand it was indeed almost in- 
credible that there could be a thief among the 
pupils of Perry ville’s most aristocratic school. 
Miss Langdon made one more announcement 
in the study-room. “ Young ladies,” she said, 
“as the handkerchief has not been returned 
I am forced to the conclusion that it has been 
dishonestly appropriated. The purloiner, — 
I do not like to use a 'harsher word, has still 
the chance to make quiet restitution. I 
trust, for the honor and reputation of the 
school, and above all for her own peace of 
conscience, she will speedily do so.” 

Nevertheless, even this appeal met with no 
response. The week went by; Madame was 
troubled; what more could she do? The re- 
port of the loss spread beyond the walls of her 
house, for the pupils were naturally excited, 
talkative, and eager to ferret out the mystery. 
Their parents were indignant over the whole 
affair, several criticised Miss Langdon severe- 
ly, as if she were to blame, and one or two 
wrote to ask if she dared accuse their 
daughters, and threatening to withdraw 
their patronage. Of course these rumors 
were not long in reaching the ears of Mrs. 
Marron. 

“ 0 mamma,” lamented Tessie tearfully, 


The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 149 

“to think that you should hear of the lace 
handkerchief in this way ! And it was to 
have been such a lovely surprise ! ” 

“ I am indeed sorry, my love,” replied her 
mother with an affectionate kiss; “ and I 
should have prized very dearly the handiwork 
over wkich you wrought so long and patiently. 
But much as I regret to relinquish any chance 
of recovering it, you would better beg Miss 
Langdon not to push the matter farther. I 
fear all efforts to regain the handkerchief will 
be fruitless and the discussion will only injure 
the school.” 

“ I am not altogether willing to yield the 
point,” said Madame, when Tessie preferred 
her request. “ Yet what can I do more in the 
matter ? ” 

Day after day one or another of the girl’s 
companions would inquire: “ Have you heard 
anything of the handkerchief yet ? ” And al- 
ways she answered in the negative or by a 
shake of the head. Even la Marchesa, en- 
grossed as she was in the prospect of so soon 
leaving what she termed “ zis deetestable 
country,” condescended to express some slight 
sympathy. 

“’Tis strange zis about your lace ’andker- 
chief,” she observed airily. “ As eet was only 
common lace, and not di Yenizia, I suppose 
you do not so much mind. But still, you ’ave 
gave time to it. ’Tis to me foolish to spend ze 
time over such gewgaws. With us,” shrugging 


150 The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 


her shoulders, “ we zink ze flame not worth ze 
candle, as you say” 

“ Mrs. Marron regrets the loss of the hand- 
kerchief much more than if it were of point 
de Venise” struck in Laura, who as usual was 
not far from her friend. “ And Tessie does 
not regard as waste of time any trouble taken 
for her mother’s sake.” 

, “ Ho, ho ! Not so fast, I ’ave mean no of- 
fense, Mees Laura; but you Americana are so 
ardente ,” flouted Olivia with nonchalance. 
“ Yet ’ave you no suspicion who the pur- 
loiner, as Madame say — ah, ah ! — who the 
purloiner may be ? ” 

“ No, none,” was the ready reply. 

“ Perhaps, zen — I can give to you a littler 
help.” 

Tessie glanced at her with quick eager- 
ness. 

“ Have you an idea ? Who do you think — ” 
began Laura impulsively. 

“I hardly dare to zink — I just suspec’, a 
veP littler bit.” 

“ But who ? ” 

“ I wish not to say who. Yet you ’ave heard 
for yourself some one cry, ‘ Ze ’andkerchief is 
fit for a queen.’ Ah, ah ! It will serve for a 
queen, it seems, ah, ah ! ” and she laughed 
scornfully. 

“ You don’t mean Wop — ” gasped Laura. 

Tessie put her hand over her friend’s lips. 

Olivia’s eyes flashed an answer but she only 


The Queer's Lace Handkerchief. 151 

said in words: “I don’ mean nobody nor 
nothing, but I zink your lace serve an Indian 
queen ver* well. Ah, ah — better zan zat di 
V enizia , eh ? And if zere ees not a nice sense 
of honor to rely on, what can be looked for ? 
Eet seems zere ees not so much difference be- 
tween stealing an essay and 'purloining a bit of 
made ’ome lace, ah, ah ! ” 

“ Stop, stop, Olivia,” pleaded Tessie, dis- 
tressed. 

“ Oh, well, well, as you will,” said the 
Marehesa, fluttering away and leaving the two 
friends staring after her. 

“ Do you really think Wopsie took it ? ” 
queried Laura. 

“ No, I don’t ! ” responded Tessie, with de- 
cision. “And please do not hint at such a 
thing to any one.” 

“Still, it may be so,” disputed her com- 
panion. “ After all, if a person is dishonest 
in one instance, there is every reason for 
the argument that he or she may be so in 
another, and W opsie certainly showed a 
great want of principle in the affair of the 
essay.” 

“ Of course, but has she not suffered enough 
on account of it ? Miss Langdon thinks she 
has learned the lesson for all the future; she 
says Wopsie’s faults are largely the result of 
her strange rearing.” 

“ All the more reason to presume she has 
vague ideas of the difference between mine 


152 The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. 

and thine ,” argued Laura. “ And then — 
why, don’t yon remember ? — Wopsie w r ent 
hack to the house for her ball the day your 
lace was stolen. What could have been easier 
for her than to slip into the deserted study- 
room and take the handkerchief out of your 
desk ? ” 

“ Laura ! I beg of you ! — promise me you 
will not breathe a syllable of this in the 
school ! I will not believe Wopsie had any- 
thing to do with the theft, and if such a re- 
port got around it would be a great injustice 
to her.” 

“ Pooh, injustice ! not a bit of it ! ” Laura 
declared. “ But I will be mum on the subject 
if you wish.” 

Although she kept her word, and Tessie was 
the personification of reticence, the conjecture 
was mooted about after all. No one could 
recollect just how it originated. 

“Why, Olivia, was it not you who told 
me ? ” asked Mary Ken wick, when questioned 
as to how she had heard the gossip. 

“ I ? I never say so ! ” quibbled the 
Marchesa in indignant surprise. “ I know 
nothing of it — I only hear a young ladee make 
remark — ze ’andkerchief is fit for a queen — 
ah, ah ! I not understand what zat mean, no 
more zan you, ah, ah ! But my ! how droll 
are you Americana ! Such a fracas, a liulla- 
laloo, you say, eh ? — all about a scrap of made 
’ome lace ! ” 


The Q men's Lace Ha r id kerch ief. 1 53 

“It was Olivia who told me,” reiterat- 
ed Mary, when la Signorina had passed 
on. 

“ Oh, well/’ allowed Irene. “ Naturally she 
would be particularly shocked. Wopsie’s con- 
duct would be particularly abhorrent to her, 
since she is so punctilious upon all questions 
of honor. Why, you know she was fonder of 
Wopsie than of any one else in the school be- 
fore that unlucky incident of the essay. She 
told me so once with tears in her eyes, and 
her voice trembled as she said no one realized 
what it cost her to break off the companion- 
ship. But she acknowledged that she was 
so sensitive in this respect that she would feel 
constrained to give up even the dearest friend 
she had in the world, if that friend were guilty 
of the least act which could be construed as 
dishonorable. Such delicacy of feeling was, 
she supposed, the penalty of having a long 
line of illustrious ancestors — but she could not 
help it ! I do not wonder this latest develop- 
ment has set her sensibilities on edge, as it 
were, and she cannot tolerate the recollection 
that she once gave Wopsie her friendship.” 
Irene and the Marchesa had become insepa- 
rable of late. 

“ But, Kenie, you talk as if you were sure 
Wopsie appropriated Tessie’s needlework,” ob- 
jected Laura, whose opinion shifted from one 
side to the other. 

“ Indeed, my dear, I am afraid there is no 


154 The Queen's Lace Handkerchief . 

doubt of it,” was the response. “ Only do not 
say I told you.” 

Thus it was. Everybody in the school was 
finally convinced that Wopsie had stolen the 
lace handkerchief. That is, everybody but 
Tessie, who still refused to believe it; “ but 
then,” her companions reasoned, “ Tessie w r as 
so scrupulous and afraid of judging rashly.” 
And what circumstantial evidence could be 
stronger ? Wopsie had been convicted of a 
species of dishonesty upon a former occasion. 
Was it more than a step from this to a material 
theft ? Soon the rumor grew that some one 
had actually seen her take the handkerchief, 
but this mysterious some one, “ being the soul 
of honor,” could not come forward and say so 
openly. 

And then there w^as Wopsie’s conduct when 
she learned that she w r as suspected. What a 
rage she flew into! With what a torrent of 
reproaches, and scorn, and vindictive Indian 
epithets did she overwhelm those who had 
been bold enough to carry the story to her. 
With what sullen obstinacy she shut herself 
up in her own room, refusing to come to class, 
to recreation, to so much as take her meals 
with the other boarding pupils. 

Even Miss Langdon could do nothing with 
her. 

ISTow how different it would have been if 
she had not taken the handkerchief. Surely, 
in this case, conscious of her own innocence 


The Queen's Lace Handkerchief . 155 

she would have laughed at the accusation; 
begged Madame to come and look through all 
her belongings, and behaved just as usual, 
instead of getting so angry and acting like a 
young savage generally. Oh, yes, said school- 
girl gossip, even Miss Langdon was satisfied 
that Wopsie was the culprit. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


AN INDIAN SPHINX. 

As a matter of fact, Miss Langdon was 
puzzled and perplexed. She had wished to 
show Wopsie that she gave no heed to the 
ugly rumor current in the school, but the girl 
obdurately avoided her. Wopsie’s self-im- 
posed seclusion was of course at variance with 
all the customs of the house, but Madame 
thought it best to pass over this infringement 
of the rules and, after one or two attempts to 
win her confidence, concluded to await pa- 
tiently the lifting of the veil of mystery which 
enshrouded this most singular and inscrutable 
pupil. So the latter remained shut up in her 
own room and refused to speak to any one, 
while down-stairs her schoolmates smiled sig- 
nificantly at the mention of her name, and 
wondered why she did not ask her father to 
take her away at once. Tessie alone made 
repeated efforts to see her, yet every move in 
this direction proved an utter failure. The 
recluse appeared deaf to all the messages of 
this persevering friend; her little notes were 
returned unopened, her frequent pleadings at 
156 


An Indian Sphinx. 


157 


the door met with no word of reply. Never- 
theless, one afternoon she mounted the stairs, 
determined upon one more endeavor to force 
an interview with the voluntary exile. In the 
hall she came upon Annette. 

“ I * clare to gracious, missy," said the maid, 
“'twould melt the heart of a stone to watch 
that pore chile; she jes’ sits thare like she wuz 
an image an’ don't hardly tech her meals 
’when I brings 'em to her. She sholy is a- 
pinin', an' I'm opinionated she'll go clar out 
o' her haid, or be took with a feber, ef she 
ain't roused somehow. She ain't so flamaga- 
tious this last day or so, howsomever; an' I 
done took notice that she has a little picture o' 
the Saviour (the one of the Pleading Heart), 
upon the wall before her; and yisterday she 
left her room dressed for a walk. I was scared 
'most out o' my seben senses when I ran 
against her cornin' down the sta'rs; hit was 
sort o' like meetin' a speerit from the shadder 
world. But I rushed for a hat an' made after 
her, 'case Madame done give me orders that 
ef Miss Wopsie tried to slip away 'thout let- 
tin' a livin' soul know, I wuz to follow her, 
eence hit wuz, you may say, powerful unsafe 
to let her go off alone, an' no one a-sartain 
but she might do herself some harm, bein' 
brought up among savages, as I hear tell." 

Evidently Annette's notion of Wopsie's for- 
mer life was as vaguely romantic in its way as 
the illusion of the Marchesa upon the same 


158 


An Indian Sphinx. 


subject. Tessie smiled in spite of herself, 
but the bright-eyed colored girl chatted on: 

“ Well, not wantin’ ter be ongrateful ter 
my obligations I hurried after her, ’thout let- 
tin’ her take no intelligence o’ the fact; but 
Lor’ a massy, we wuz way otf in our circumlo- 
cutions; the pore honey made straight for the 
church. I slipped into a pew to wait, an’ thar, 
missy, she stayed a considerable time a-prayin’ 
like any pious Christian, an’ as ef her soul 
wuz a-y earning for comfort. Furder mo’, ef 
she had to do with the speeritin’ away o’ yore 
lace handkerchief I think likely yo’re a-gwine 
to find it onexpected, afore long, an’ that’s the 
livin’ trufe.” 

The young girl gave the sharp attendant 
a searching look, but quickly felt ashamed of 
the momentary suspicion, for Annette had 
always been considered “ as honest as the 
sun.” 

“Miss Thompson knows nothing whatever 
about my lace handkerchief; I am surprised 
at you, Annette,” she said stiffly. 

“ For kingdom come I ain’t never concerted 
she did, missy,” deprecated the talkative maid. 
“ But it ’pears like she was a-sufferin’ the tor- 
ments o’ an oneasy mind, anyhow. An’ when 
I riccollect jes’ how merry she wuz in the 
walks an’ ways o’ life a while ago, an’ I take 
notice how different hit am now, why, hit 
done make me so flapdazzled I don’ know 
what to do.” 


An Indian Sphinx. 159 

Thereupon, Annette hastily wiped her eyes 
with her dusting cloth, and picking up the 
broom she had let fall a few moments before, 
continued her work of sweeping the 'hall, 
while Tessie proceeded up the second flight of 
stairs. The day was warm and, visitors not 
being expected, Wopsie’s door stood a few 
inches ajar. 

“ What a fortunate circumstance,” noted 
Tessie, whose heart beat a little quicker as she 
approached. When opposite to the room she 
paused and looked in. Unconscious of her 
proximity Wopsie sat at the table by the win- 
dow, motionless as though carven in stone, 
staring at the small picture on the wall in 
front of her, with a grave, impenetrable face. 

“ A veritable Indian sphinx/’ thought the 
uninvited caller, shrinking back with a strange 
reluctance to break the spell of silence. 
But this timidity must be conquered, she 
told herself. Now was the time to have an 
understanding with Wopsie, once and for all. 
The next moment, rapping lightly, she put 
her head in at the door, saying: 

“ Pardon me, Wopsie, I must speak to you.” 
At the sound of her voice Wopsie sprang up as 
if shot and, facing her with burning cheeks 
and flashing eyes, cried: 

“ Tessie Marron, what do you mean by com- 
ing here ? Please go away immediately. Do 
you think I have the patience of a saint ? ” 

“No, I do not indeed,” returned Tessie, 


160 


An Indian Sphinx. 


who also, as evinced on former occasions, had a 
temper of her own. “ But I came — ” she 
added more softly. 

“ Oh, I know,” scoffed Wopsie with a bitter 
laugh. “ You came to inquire about your lace 
handkerchief, to bother and reproach me, to 
tease me to give it up, no doubt. I tell you 
all that will be of no avail, so you may just 
go away.” 

She crossed the room and attempted to 
close the door, but the intruder stood in the 
way and would not yield. Wopsie glared de- 
fiantly. In the eyes that met hers she read 
a determination equal to her own. She had 
actually grown thin during this week of self- 
imprisonment ; Tessie noticed this and her 
heart softened. 

“ Wopsie dear,” she said tremulously, “ I 
came to tell you I do not believe you took the 
lace handkerchief. I have never believed so 
for a single minute.” 

Wopsie faltered, and forthwith, over- 
whelmed by this unexpected avowal of trust 
and affection, gave way to a flood of tears, 
threw her arms around her friend in an im- 
pulsive caress, and cried again and again hys- 
terically, “ 0 Tessie, Tessie ! ” Then, almost 
as quickly, she pushed Tessie gently but firmly 
from her, banged the door to, and turned the 
kev, leaving her visitor standing alone in the 
hall. 

In vain Tessie pleaded at the door. “ Wop- 


An Indian Sphinx. 


161 


sie dear, let me in ! don’t be foolish, I want 
to talk to you ! ” 

Wopsie was obdurate. 

“ No, no. Thank you, Tessie, oh, so much, 
but indeed I cannot. Leave me alone, do,” 
she called in a smothered tone through the 
keyhole. 

There was no help for it. Tessie was 
obliged to give up, and she went home sadly 
disappointed. Naturally, the next day she 
confided the result of her visit to Laura. 

“ Queer, was it not ? ” she said in con- 
clusion, after describing Wopsie’s impetuous 
embrace and as sudden banishment of her. 

“Very queer, certainly,” agreed Laura. 
“ Manifestly it can only mean one thing.” 

“ I am afraid it does,” acknowledged Tessie 
mechanically. 

“ Yes, it proves that she must have taken 
your piece of work,” Laura went on. 

“ It proves no such nonsense,” interrupted 
Tessie, a little sharply. “ Wopsie never stole 
the handkerchief. I have said so all along, 
and I am more confident of it than ever, now.” 

Laura stared at her in genuine astonish- 
ment, and finally broke out with: 

“ Well, I am sure I do not see how you can 
cling to that conclusion. I consider her man- 
ner to you a very suspicious point. If she 
were innocent would she not have told you so, 
especially when you assured her of your belief 
that she had been wrongly accused ? But she 


162 


An Indian Sphinx. 


did nothing of the kind. Her silence is an 
admission of guilt. Of course, when you ex- 
pressed such blind faith in her, she felt 
ashamed and sorry and — hysterical. Perhaps, 
as Annette thinks, she will return the hand- 
kerchief, or may be she has lost it and that 
makes her unhappy, supposing she would 
really wish to put it back.” 

To all these arguments, however, Tessie 
only shook her head, repeating persistently: 

“ Wopsie never stole the handkerchief at 
all" 

“ Tessie Marron, after her remarkable con- 
duct, why do you keep on saying so perversely 
that she knows nothing about it ! " reproached 
Laura, exasperated. 

“ I do not say she knows nothing of it,” 
corrected her friend. “ Only that she did not 
steal it.” 

“ Oh, well, I presume you have a charitable 
way of construing the act. I dare say she 
borrowed the lace work,” sarcastically, “ but I 
believe in calling things by their right names, 
while you speak in riddles. Tessie, I should 
like to know what you mean.” 

Tessie sighed. Laura appeared determined 
to misunderstand her, and, when it came to 
the point, she did not feel justified in express- 
ing the thought in her mind. 

When, hoping to create a more favorable 
impression in Wopsie’s behalf, she went to 
Miss Langdon with an account of the inter- 


An Indian Sphinx. 


163 


view with the suspected girl, she was surprised 
to find that Madame took the same view of it 
as Laura. Wopsie’s conduct had been very 
singular, she considered. 

“ But, Madame,” ventured Tessie desper- 
ately, “ suppose Wopsie knew who took the 
handkerchief — would not this account for her 
manner ? ” 

Madame hesitated as if struck by the ques- 
tion, but presently she dismissed the idea 
with a smile and a shake of the head. “ I am 
afraid in this instance your generosity and 
wish to judge gently have misled you, my 
dear,” she said. “ Unfortunately there is no 
one else half so likely to have stolen the hand- 
kerchief as Eva. Besides, no one else went 
back to the study-room at the recreation hour 
during which it was lost. All the other pupils 
were in the garden.” 

“ Perhaps not all, Madame,” rejoined Tes- 
sie, showing a disposition to argue the point. 
“ Olivia, for example, remained in the house 
to pack her trunk.” 

Madame’s eyes opened wide; she considered 
Tessie’s persistence carried too far to be con- 
sonant with good breeding. 

“ Olivia spent the time in her own room; I 
happen to know because it is next to mine,” 
she responded coldly. “ Besides, you would 
hardly accuse a member of the distinguished 
family of Parmesano di Niente of — ” 

“ No, no — ” stammered Tessie, and the ex- 


164 An Indian Sphinx. 

pression of perplexity deepened upon her 
face. 

“ There is absolutely no one to be suspected 
but Eva, you see,” concluded Miss Lang- 
don decisively, and the subject was dropped. 

* * * ❖ 

“ Of myself I can do nothing more to un- 
ravel the mystery,” declared Tessie to Laura, 
who, at least, sympathized with her distress 
over the matter; “ but I shall keep on pray- 
ing to St. Anthony to help me find the lace 
handkerchief and thus clear Wopsie.” 

“ The dear saint may find your piece of 
needlework for you, but I suspect even he 
cannot assist Wopsie so far,” replied her 
friend, who quickly repented the speech, how- 
ever, when she perceived that it caused 
Tessie’ s eyes to fill with tears. 

A week passed, bringing the day of the ex- 
aminations. Even Tessie forgot the lace 
handkerchief for a time. All the pupils 
were excited over the great ordeal of the 
school year. Wopsie alone remained in her 
room; Miss Langdon, displeased at what she 
considered the girl's incorrigible obstinacy, 
concluded that it was better to let her severely 
alone. The only incident to divert the atten- 
tion of the girls from their books was the de- 
parture of Olivia. Wopsie heard the voice of 
the Marchesa in the hall. Her face bright- 
ened for an instant, and she breathed quicker 
at the thought that her old friend was com- 


An Indian Sphinx. 


165 


ing to bid her good-by. But she need not 
have felt so strangely constrained and em- 
barrassed, nor have resolved so unwaveringly 
not to open the door, even for a farewell word. 

La Signorina was only haughtily ordering 
Annette to carry down her satchel, and ex- 
plaining that her trunk would have to be sent 
on to New York by a later train, since the 
expressman had not called for it in time. 
Wopsie, seated at the writing-table by the 
window as usual, bit her lips until they were 
as red as cherries and smiled bitterly at her 
mistake, as Olivia passed the door, apparently 
without a thought of her, and ran lightly 
down the stairs. In the hall below a little 
group of schoolmates, willing to let bygones 
be bygones, had gathered to take leave of the 
young Italian. 

“ Addio, my friends,” cried Olivia gush- 
ingly, saluting each with a little peck first on 
one cheek and then on the other by way of a 
parting kiss. “ I cannot in verity say I am 
grieve to depart from zis so unique school, 
forever. You know how 'ard eet 'ave been for 
one like me — But I forgive to all whatso- 
ever ? ave been done against me. We can laugh 
at eet now — ees eet not so ? And the nex’ time 
you ’ave among you some one from a noble 
family, you will know how to behave better, 
eh ? Addio , Signorinas Emiliwahwah and 
Lauraqua. Addio , Mees Tessie Marron; I 'ope 
you find your 'andkerchief, for, although not 


166 


An Indian Sphinx. 


di Venizia, eet was not so bad of eets kind; 
no, not so bad for made ’ome lace.” And with 
this, the nearest approach to a compliment 
she had ever deigned to bestow upon any one 
at Miss Langdon’s after her break with Wop- 
sie, la Marchesa di Niente disappeared into the 
parlor where the nabob, now her stepfather, 
was waiting to conduct her back to the arms 
of her mother, who professed to be pining 
for the reunion. 

“ Insolent to the last ! ” exclaimed Emily 
hotly. “ I wish we had not stayed to see her 
off.” 

“ What a pity the carriage has not a place 
for her trunk,” said Laura, peering through 
the window. 

The travellers came out into the hall; they 
were saying good-by to Miss Langdon. The 
next moment they descended the front steps, 
entered the carriage, and presently were gone. 
Tessie went back to her lessons with a very 
serious face. An hour later, as the girls were 
going to French class, they caught sight 
of the expressman bringing down Olivia’s 
trunk, and banging it against every step of 
the stairs. 

“ The last of Livvy,” whispered Laura to 
Tessie, who nodded assent and went on con- 
ning a verb. It was not quite the last of la 
Marchesa though, after all. 

The next morning as the two friends came 
into school they encountered Annette, who 


An Indian Sphinx. 167 

upon beholding them threw up her hands, 
ejaculating: 

“ 0 Miss Tessie, chile ! 0 Miss Laura ! The 
queerest thing that eber was, hab come to 
pass ! The idjiot ’xpressman — yet I 'low ez 
pYaps I done got no right to ’spaciate mo’ on 
that subject, considerin’ what am come about 
by reason ob it; — howsumeber that ain’t got 
nothin’ ter do with the circumferences o’ the 
case — ” 

“ For goodness’ sake, Annette, what are you 
aiming at ? ” asked Laura, laughing. 

“ Well, missy,” began the loquacious ser- 
vant once more, as if striving to collect her 
scattered wits. “ That rampagious ’xpress- 
man — though p’raps I ought not ter — ■” 

“ Oh, go on; we are willing to regard him 
as a rascal or not, just as you choose, only do 
tell us what has occurred,” Laura interrupted 
impatiently. 

“ Well, then, the idjiot, on coming to the 
station yisterday afternoon, what did he do 
but set Miss ’Livia’s trunk down on the very 
aidge o’ the platform an’ drov’ off, ’t'hout as 
much as a look over his shoulder at hit. 
Pretty soon thar’ cum a wild enjine t earin’ 
ober the track. An’ the next thing, honey, 
shure ’s you lib an’ breathe, ef that fool en- 
jine didn’t pick up the trunk with a corner 
o’ the cowcatcher, an’ bob it along, cl’ar the 
length o’ the depot, as neat as you please, an’ 
prisently toss hit off crushed like an eggshell 


168 


An Indian Sphinx . 


an’ only held together by the straps. The 
baggagemasterwas in a rage, they do tell — but 
ascertaining o’ the fact that the trunk cum 
from this extinguished ’stablishment he hailed 
that coon, Pete the teamster, who transpired 
to be a-passin’, an’ Pete landed Miss ’Livia’s 
things back to us in a dump cart.” 

“ The Marchesa’s wardrobe in a dump 
cart! ” repeated Laura. The picture conjured 
up by the maid was too much for her gravity, 
notwithstanding that she was good-naturedly 
sorry for the ill-luck of la Signorina. 

“ But that am not all,” proceeded Annette, 
turning to Tessie, who had listened in incred- 
ulous dismay. “ That am not all ; I might 
go on ter excommunicate furder, but Madame 
done tole me to say nothin’, ’xcept as how she 
wants ter see you, Miss Tessie, berry particu- 
lar, in the office, an’ I was to inform you ob 
her wishes the moment my eyes should light 
on you this blessed mornin’.” 

What could this mean? 


CHAPTER XV. 


MISS LANG DON EXPLAINS THE MYSTERY. 

Tessie found Miss Langdon awaiting her in 
the little office whose window, unencumbered 
by draperies, was shaded by the overhanging 
branches of a maple-tree wherein, if one 
watched long enough, one might discover a 
robin's nest, and learn many things in regard 
to the charms of bird-housekeeping. The 
tranquillity of the garden below reigned in the 
cool and quiet room, redolent with the fra- 
grance of a cluster of glowing J une roses that 
stood in a simple vase upon the desk at which 
so much business was transacted. 

“ Be seated, my dear,” said Madame, look- 
ing up from her writing as the young girl en- 
tered, and motioning to a wicker chair com- 
manding the pleasantest view of the maple. 
“ I have sent for you because I desire you to 
tell me again the story of the loss of your 
handkerchief, together with every incident 
you remember which may possibly have any 
connection with the unfortunate affair.” 

Tessie complied, going over the matter in 
169 


170 Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 

brief, for it had become very unpleasant to 
her and she did not like to allow her thoughts 
to dwell upon it. 

“ And you have no suspicion, no theory as 
to the individual who took the piece of lace 
work from your desk?” asked her interrogator 
with a penetrating glance, when she had fin- 
ished. 

Tessie hesitated. 

“ I had at one time,” she acknowledged at 
last, with some unwillingness. “ But I gave 
it up, for it was too absurd to be entertained 
seriously. Then, too, mother cautioned me 
that suspicion once aroused is with difficulty 
allayed, and I suspected first one person and 
then another until I decided to endeavor to 
banish it from my mind altogether, as the 
only way to avoid doing some one injustice. 
I would rather not talk about it any more, 
i'f you please.” 

“ So would I,” returned Madame, sighing. 
“And I promise never to mention the sub- 
ject to you after this morning. Circum- 
stances have arisen, however, which render 
necessary the present reference to it. Do I 
understand aright, that despite the circum- 
stantial evidence, and the strong impression 
against Eva Thompson, you still believe she 
had nothing to do with the mysterious dis- 
appearance of your lace handkerchief? ” 

“ Yes, Madame,” affirmed Tessie, with de- 
cision. “ I have never for a moment doubted 


Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 171 

Wopsie. I am confident she is innocent, but 
somehow from the first I have felt that she 
knows the real culprit, but for some reason is 
not free to give me a clue.” 

“ And I have come to share your opinion,” 
concurred Miss Langdon most unexpect- 
edly. 

“ Yes,” reiterated Tessie, flushing with 
pleasure. “ Wopsie either feels bound in 
honor not to reveal what she has learned in 
connection with the lace handkerchief, or else 
she does not speak because it is either irre- 
trievably lost or destroyed.” 

Madame smiled. 

“ At least I can satisfy you upon one 
point,” she said. “ The handiwork to which 
you devoted so much time and patience, Tes- 
sie, is neither destroyed nor irretrievably lost. 
What would you say if I were to tell you that 
it has, in fact, been found?” 

Tessie caught her breath and stared in- 
credulously: 

“ 0 Madame ! ” she stammered at length. 

Miss Langdon nodded. 

“ Furthermore, it is now actually in my pos- 
session,” added the good lad}', and without 
more ado she opened her desk and took from 
it a small package done up in tissue paper, 
which she placed in Tessie’s hands. Trem- 
bling with excitement the girl unfolded the 
packet, and presently gave a little cry of de- 
light for there, looking more beautiful than 


172 Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 

ever against the soft violet background of the 
paper, lay her lace handkerchief ! 

Yes, of a certainty, the lace handkerchief 
over which she had wrought so many hours, 
for in one corner, exquisitely and intricately 
interwoven with the graceful scroll of the pat- 
tern were her mother’s initials, as Miss Lang- 
don had designed, and taught her how to work 
them. 

For a moment or two Tessie gazed at it in 
speechless astonishment, hardly daring to 
credit the testimony of her own eyes. 

“ My dear, I am indeed happy to be able 
to restore it to you,” said Madame, under- 
standing her emotion. 

“ But how — where ? — ” she faltered at last. 

“ In what manner was it recovered you 
would ask ? ” pursued Madame amiably. 
“ Well, ’twas assuredly by a most unique and 
remarkable circumstance. You heard from 
Annette of the trunk crushed like an egg- 
shell at the railway station, through the care- 
lessness of an expressman. The contents were 
brought back here in hopeless confusion. I 
at once sent for another trunk and proceeded 
to pack anew the wardrobe of the Marchesa di 
Niente since, as she is to sail for Europe on 
Saturday, it was important that her luggage 
should be forwarded to the steamer without 
delay. To avoid the possibility of any mis- 
understanding afterward, I thought it well to 
make an inventory of everything returned in 


Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery . 173 

the trunk. ’Twas thus I chanced to open 
this package; I was reluctant to do so, but 
could not otherwise complete the list. I ex- 
pected, indeed, to find merely a pretty ribbon 
or some such trifle. Judge of my amazement, 
then, at the disclosure which greeted me ! 
My dear, the wrecking of that trunk may be 
called simply a peculiar accident, yet I cannot 
but consider it a providential circumstance. 
Had it not occurred poor Eva would have left 
us under a cloud, while — on her part — she 
would have been haunted all her life long by 
the bitter memory of a great injustice done to 
her.” 

“ Then, Madame, it was Olivia — ” Tessie 
began, but stopped short, unwilling to utter 
the accusing words. 

“ Yes, Tessie,” replied Miss Langdon sadly. 
“ It ivas Olivia who stole your lace handker- 
chief. You recollect, I presume, the day you 
reported your visit to Eva’s room, and our 
conversation during the interview ? When 
you remarked that Olivia had remained in- 
doors at the morning recreation during which 
the handkerchief disappeared, I was indignant 
at the mere suggestion of any connection be- 
tween this circumstance and your loss, and 
was satisfied the young lady had spent the 
time in her room. I frankly admit my mis- 
take; it proves that we ought not to assert a 
thing positively unless we have absolute cer- 
tainty that we" cannot be mistaken — ” 


174 Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 

“But I did not really suspect her; I only 
hazarded the remark to make a point in favor 
of Wopsie, and afterwards I felt I had done 
wrong to hint at such a suspicion/’ demurred 
Tessie. “ Even now, I do not exactly compre- 
hend. Is not Olivia, then, the great lady she 
was supposed to be ? I thought there was no 
doubt of her position ? ” 

“ She is verily the Marchesa di Niente, and 
descended from a distinguished family, if that 
is what you mean,” said Madame. 

“ Yet how is it possible that one of illus- 
trious lineage could — ” 

“ Steal ? ” interrupted Miss Langdon blunt- 
ly: “Ah, my dear, the best heritage from a 
noble race is, truly, a natural inclination to 
honorable and generous deeds; but, on the 
other hand, individual nobility must be 
builded upon a firmer foundation than the 
virtues of one’s ancestors. Simple worth dates 
back farther than the most ancient titles of 
rank. I have little pity for Olivia. There 
seem to be no extenuating circumstances in 
relation to this miserable theft. She secretly 
admired the handkerchief, chance threw in 
her way an opportunity of becoming possessed 
of the bit of finery, and she yielded to the 
temptation without a shadow of the excuse 
that might be pleaded by the hungry pilferer 
encountered in a throng for instance.” 

“ Still, I am sorry for her,” said Tessie 
gently. “ Olivia had so few of the pretty 


Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 175 

knickknacks that girls love. If her mother 
had provided her with more ribbons and ‘ fol- 
derols,’ as Delia calls them, perhaps this 
would not have happened/’ 

“ Possibly not; nevertheless the test of 
character is not in having what others possess, 
but in being able, ungrudgingly and without 
envy, to contemplate their enjoyment of the 
blessings we lack ourselves. I have written 
to Olivia that her duplicity has been fully re- 
vealed. Her conduct in diverting suspicion 
from herself by casting it upon Eva; her 
hardness in allowing another to suffer in 
silence the penalty of her fault; the fact that 
she showed no disposition to return what she 
had wrongfully appropriated — all these con- 
siderations make me feel that she deserves 
little mercy at our hands. 

“ Of course, as soon as I made the discovery 
I went at once to Eva,” continued Miss Lang- 
don. “ The poor child heard what I had to 
say in stolid silence. No one, I think, can 
ever fathom how deeply wounded she has 
been through the unjust arraignment of her 
by her companions. Towards me on this oc- 
casion she maintained at first, as before, a 
proud reserve in' which I now discerned an 
element of reproach, although, indeed, I had 
not meant to suspect her, and it was only her 
own singular conduct that raised a question in 
my mind. When I went on to speak in severe 
terms of Olivia, however, she aroused from her 


176 Miss Langdon Explains the Mystery. 

apathy and springing up, exclaimed fervidly: 
‘ I beg of you, Madame — the Marchesa was 
once my friend; I pardon and wish to hear 
no more against her/ Poor Eva ! Un- 
trained as she is, our young Indian girl has 
really a very loyal nature.” 

“ Well, if she can forgive la Signorina, and 
refrains from judging her harshly, I am sure 
I ought to, especially since I have the lace 
handkerchief all safe again,” cried Tessie. “ I 
know every stitch, the setting of every mesh 
of it almost by heart. How pleased mother 
will be to have her birthday present after all. 
0 Madame, I am so happy, I wish every one 
in the world were happy, too ! And now, 
may I go to Wopsie ? I want to show her 
how glad I am that the cloud which she suf- 
fered to gather around her, in order to shield 
an unworthy friend, has dissolved into sunlit 
air, as I knew it would; but just think how 
long she has lived in seclusion, like a her- 
mitess.” 

“ Yes, my dear, go to her,” assented Miss 
Langdon readily: “ Towards you Eva’s heart 
turns with a warmth of true affection unem- 
bittered by one hard thought, for from the 
beginning you have harbored no mistrust of 
her.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A CHOICE OF HEROINES. 

The young girl hurried away to the little 
room up-stairs. Her joyous knock was like the 
tapping of a congratulatory telegraphic mes- 
sage upon the door, which this time flew open 
promptly, and there, just beyond the thresh- 
old, stood the hermitess with sparkling eyes 
and smiling face. 

“ 0 Wopsie! ” cried Tessie, springing for- 
ward and clasping the hands of her resolute 
schoolmate who had spent so many days in 
solitude. A wave of emotion swept over the 
latter’s dark face and kept her silent for a 
moment. 

“ I knew the mystery would be cleared up; 
I was sure you had some particular reason for 
acting as you did,” began Tessie incoherently; 
“ but now tell me all about it, will you not? ” 

“ My dear Tessie,” replied Wopsie, finding 
voice at last. “ I do not wish to speak ill 
of — well, of any one, but an explanation is 
due you, and this you shall have. To go back 
to the day when your lace handkerchief dis- 
appeared so strangely. On that morning, as 
177 


178 


A Choice of Heroines. 


I came in from recreation for my ball, I met 
the Marchesa in the study-room. She was 
standing before a desk, which she closed hur- 
riedly and with some confusion when she be- 
came aware of my presence. ‘ Why, Olivia, 
what are you doing ? ’ I said involuntarily. 
‘ Don’t you know it is against the rules for a 
pupil to so much as raise the lid of another’s 
desk? ’ ‘ I did but search for a book of mine; 
I must it in my trunk pack,’ she answered 
quickly, and with assumed carelessness, but 
looking at her sharply I saw she was really 
excited and uneasy. 

“ ‘ If you have mislaid the book you would 
better ask Miss Carstens or Madame about it; 
anything found is usually taken to the office/ 
I suggested. Without waiting to hear more, 
however, she made good her escape, but as she 
turned away I noticed peeping out of her 
pocket the end of a bit of lace. I thought 
nothing of this at the time, but that afternoon 
when Madame announced the loss of your 
handkerchief, all these details recurred to my 
memory. Yet I had not positive proof, and I 
had no right to cast suspicion on any one; 
least of all upon one who had been my friend. 
I was very unhappy, and very sorry for you, 
because I knew how much patience and love 
you had wrought into the web of the beauti- 
ful birthday gift for your mother. I pur- 
posely spoke of this to Olivia, but without any 
apparent effect; then I taxed her with know- 


A Choice of Heroines. 


179 


ing more than any one else about the dis- 
appearance of the lace handkerchief. She 
affected surprise and prepared to canter away 
full tilt upon her hobby of family honor, et 
cetera, but I kept to. the point, and reminded 
her that when I came upon her that day in 
the study-room she was in the very act of 
searching through a desk. 

“ At this she grew thoroughly angry. 

“ f What care I for a bit of made ? ome 
lace? ’ she almost shrieked, stamping her foot 
passionately. ‘All I 'ave to say of eet ees 
what every one say — eet ees gone — lost — eet 
can nevair be found — you understand - — eet 
can nevair be found! And zat ees all zere ees 
to say. Diavalo! what an ado for a scrap of 
made ’ome lace! Now if eet were di Yenizia 
zere might some excuse be! but made 'ome! 
how droll! One zing I would to you recall, 
nevairzeless, Mees Wopsiewahwah, and mak* 
to believe Indian preencess. You say you met 
me in ze study-room — Ah, ah, I also 'ave zere 
met you! You tell you ? ave see me at ze 
desk; — I reply I tak’ my book from ze desk 
of Mees Irene Weir — she 'ave give me liberty 
to do so; Madame can of her demand if eet 
ees not ze truth. I have no cause nor pair- 
mission to search ze desk of Mees Tessie Mar- 
ron. I know not her lace handkerchief ees 
zere. I *ave always laugh at her made ’ome 
lace, zat *ave no value at all; ees eet to be pre- 
sumed zen zat — Ah, ah, I can laugh, ze idea 


180 


A Choice of Heroines. 


ees so ridicolo, but, eet ees, indeed, a great 
affront. Yaugh! I snap my fingair at ze 
weeked calumny of Mees W opsiewahwah . Ze 
next moment, howevair, I am on fire with 
rage at her treacherous whispairs against ze 
poor foreigner for ze sake off her own protec- 
tion. Yet who is zere zat will believ’ such a 
fairy tale? What! ze honorable Marchese di 
Niente to fancy a bit of made ’ome lace, as 
eef she was a lady’s-maid? I will forgiv’ ze 
insult because of ze scherzo , ze jest, ze droll- 
erie, as you call eet. Of what use could la 
Marchesa di Niente mak’ of eet? But ze 
PreencessWopsiewahwah, — zat ees very differ- 
ent. And when eet comes to a point of verity, 
will not every one — yes, every one — believ* ze 
word of la Marchesa di Niente rather zan zat 
of Mees Wopsiewahwah, who *ave — pardon 
me — who *ave lost already ze confeedence off 
her schoolmates by ze unfortunate affair of 
ze borrowed essay? Ah, ah! No; already 
more zan one say eet ees Wopsie who *ave 
stole ze handkerchief. Ze Indian lack ze nice 
sense of honor. To borrow an essay, or 'pur- 
loin a bit of lace — where ees ze difference? 
Perhaps she ees not so much to blame, know- 
ing no better; — still, my faith, eet ees awk- 
ward, ees eet not?’ ” 

During her dramatic recital, Wopsie had, 
without the least touch of malice, and indeed 
almost unconsciously, lapsed into a perfect 
mimicry of la Signorina’s manner and accent. 


A Choice of Heroines. 


181 


as her natural talent for impersonation as- 
serted itself. Haying repeated the cruel 
words of the Majrchesa she nearly broke down, 
however, and turning away abruptly, clutched 
nervously at the amber heads about her neck 
as though they strangled her. 

“ The wretch ! When it was she who went 
about, slyly whispering the accusation, and 
thus diverting suspicion from herself ! ” in- 
terjected Tessie indignantly. 

But Wopsie stayed her by a gesture. 

“ We will not dwell upon the point,” she 
said, passing it over quickly. “ As a matter of 
fact, I soon found that every one believed me 
the culprit — ” 

“ No, not every one” corrected her friend. 

“ Well, all but you, Tessie dear. I blamed 
no one, though; I felt I had brought this 
upon myself. It was the consequence of my 
own folly. And now how could I boldly pro- 
test my abhorrence of the theft, assert my 
honesty, declare that I might be trusted with 
untold wealth, and yet would scrupulously 
render an account of every penny of it. Ah, 
my dear friend, I had sown the brambles; I 
must tread the thorny path no matter how 
painful it had become. 

“ Nevertheless, had there appeared a chance 
of recovering the handkerchief for you, I 
would have spoken. I would have braved the 
distrust and skepticism of the girls, the polite 
incredulity of Miss Langdon; I would have 


182 


A Choice of Heroines . 


pitted my word against Olivia’s and told what 
I knew, even though it were only to be igno- 
miniously vanquished in the end. In this 
case, at least there would have been the satis- 
faction of having done what I could. But the 
Marchesa had said most emphatically ‘ the 
handkerchief can never be found/ 

“ ‘ Then she must, in turn, have lost it/ I 
reflected. She could not restore it ! No doubt 
she would be glad to do so, but actual restitu- 
tion was now impossible. Perhaps ^he had 
not really meant to keep the lace at all; per- 
haps she merely took advantage of an oppor- 
tunity to examine it critically, intending to 
put it back immediately; or at worst, she may 
only have wished to copy the design. Maybe 
my very appearance in the study-room that 
morning prevented her from replacing it in 
your desk at once. At any rate, something 
had happened to the handkerchief; she could 
not, therefore, return it, and she was, accord- 
ingly, well-nigh demented. So I reasoned, 
and, to my mind, this accounted for her reck- 
less denunciation of me; the fear of the dis- 
grace of being found out caused her to catch 
at every straw to help her to evade the con- 
sequences of the act she could not recall. And 
being in so excited a state she was scarcely re- 
sponsible for trying to shift the blame upon 
another. Thus I decided, after thinking it 
over before the little picture of the ‘ Patient 
Heart 9 upon the wall there. And then, all at 


A Choice of Heroines. 


183 


once, the thought came to me: ‘ The sus- 
picion of my schoolmates against me is in this 
instance unjust, but why not endure it in a 
spirit of atonement for my former faults ? 
Olivia cannot right the wrong she has done; 
what a rumpus it will make if my discovery 
becomes known; that is, supposing my story 
is believed after all. What a grief to the 
Marchesa’s mother; how angry her stepfather 
will be ! What punishment will be meted out 
to her ? When there is nothing to be gained, 
why overwhelm with disgrace one who has 
assumed so proud a position among us, up to 
the very last days of her stay here ? ’ ” 

Tessie broke forth into an expression of ad- 
miration at the unselfishness of this decision, 
but Wopsie only continued as though it was 
the most natural conclusion in the world: 

“ As for myself, on the contrary, I had, it 
seemed, no reputation for honesty to lose. 
Moreover Olivia had been my friend; that she 
was false to me was no reason why I should 
not stand by her. I was, indeed, wounded by 
her insinuations against me (she always had a 
grudge against me since the day of the Indian 
Tea Party), but I forgave her, and determined 
to take upon myself the penalty of what she 
had done, and to be silent. 

“ Yet I could not go among the girls/’ ac- 
knowledged Wopsie with a sigh of relief that 
the ordeal was over. “ I did not feel strong 
enough in my resolution to endure either 


184 


A Choice of Heroines . 


their covert sneers or repressed dislike; and I 
was afraid that if stung to anger by some cut- 
ting word, I would blurt out the whole story. 
Miss Langdon’s kindness, her reproachful air 
when she saw I was keeping something from 
her, and finally, her evident disappointment 
in me, were hard indeed to withstand. But 
it was hardest of all, Tessie dear, to keep you 
away; to be deaf when you came knocking at 
the door; to discourage you by an assumption 
of harsh indifference. At first I supposed, 
like all the others, you believed me guilty and 
came to accuse me, or else because you hoped 
to recover the handkerchief quietly. You per- 
severed, and then, knowing your gentleness 
and goodness, I began to fancy you wished to 
accord me your forgiveness. But, oh, Tessie, 
I never imagined the real reason. I never 
dared to hope you trusted me through it all, 
and though my conduct must have been in- 
comprehensible to you. On the day w T hen you 
found my door open, and insisted upon enter- 
ing this room to assure me of your confidence 
in my innocence, then truly I could scarcely 
refrain from telling you everything. I dared 
not let you say more to me, for had I listened 
I would have abandoned my resolution. And 
so, ungrateful, hard-hearted as you must have 
thought me, I fiercely pushed you out into the 
hall and turned the key in the door.” 

Tessie nodded smilingly, at the same time 
brushing away the tears of sympathy which 


A Choice of Heroines. 185 

had started to her eyes at the words of her 
friend. 

“ One hope I had,” pursued Wopsie. “ I 
often heard Olivia’s voice in the hall below. 
f She will never go away without coming to 
see me,’ I said to myself. f I do not expect her 
to acknowledge, even to me, that she took the 
lace handkerchief, but surely, by at least com- 
ing to say good-by, she will show me that she 
appreciates my motive in keeping silence.’ 
Many times I was disappointed. But about a 
quarter of an hour before her departure I 
actually heard her step approaching my door. 
My heart gave a bound and I sprang up to 
welcome her. 

“ What an idiot I was to expect such a 
thing ! The next moment she had passed on, 
I dare say without a thought of me. She had 
come up-stairs to look for Annette, with whom 
she wished to leave some instructions about 
her luggage. Watching from my window, 
after a few minutes I saw her step into the 
carriage that awaited her, and presently it 
rolled away. I thought this was the last I 
should ever hear or see of the Marchesa di 
Niente, and, as you may imagine, my thoughts 
were bitter enough. But last night when An- 
nette brought up my supper she told me of the 
singular accident to Olivia’s trunk. She was 
greatly excited over the fact that the Si- 
gnorina’s wardrobe had been brought back to 
the house in a dump cart, and I was so un- 


186 


A Choice of Heroines. 


generous as to laugh a little hardly over the 
mishap. The idea never occurred to me that 
any good might come of it to myself. Judge 
of my surprise, then, when Miss Langdon hon- 
ored me with a visit this morning. She had 
ignored me for a week, and I knew I was 
under the ban of her displeasure. As soon as 
she came into the room, however, I saw from 
the expression of her face and her gracious 
manner that something had happened. 
Nevertheless, I think you can scarcely realize 
my amazement when she told me all; when, 
opening the package she held in her hand, 
she showed me your lace handkerchief, safe 
and uninjured, and, to my astonished eyes, 
more beautifuld than ever. Ah, Tessie, the 
strange train of circumstances indeed proved 
to me that although one may bring upon one’s 
self a tragic punishment for what seems at 
first but a slight fault by comparison; yet, on 
the other hand, God will right all injustice in 
the end. I forgive Olivia even though she de- 
ceived me to the close, and obtained my 
silence by a lie. She was my friend; I would 
still shield her if I could ! But, Tessie, truest 
and best, can you comprehend how happy I 
am to be fully exonerated ? Once more I can 
breathe without a smothered feeling; once 
more I can meet the eyes of all the world un- 
flinchingly. All these days I have been like an 
untamed bird, beating against the bars of its 
cage and pining to be free — ” 


A Choice of Heroines. 


187 


“ Brave, generous Wopsie ! ” exclaimed Tes- 
sie, kissing her affectionately. 

“ And yet, I shrink from meeting people 
again,” continued the young Indian girl, 
faltering now that the real ordeal was over. 

But, as it chanced, she did not meet her 
schoolmates until long afterwards, for that 
very morning her father arrived in Perryville 
and took her away to New York with him. 
Miss Langdon experienced much satisfaction, 
however, in announcing to her pupils the com- 
plete vindication of Wopsie, although, in 
truth, she touched more reservedly upon the 
part played by the audacious Marchesa di 
Niente than the overbearing Signorina 
merited. But the charlatan Indian princess, 
with a natural nobility of character in strik- 
ing contrast to the unprincipled selfishness 
of the unworthy representative of a patrician 
European civilization, had made this leniency 
a parting request. 

As for Tessie, the dear girl was as happy as 
she deserved to be, for she had the great pleas- 
ure of presenting the beautiful lace handker- 
chief to her mother as a birthday gift, after 
all. And, a few days later, Mrs. Marron gave 
a charming little lawn party for Tessie and 
her classmates, which was a grand success 
from beginning to end. 

The boys, Joe and Ben, hovered about the 
scene, but they repaid their sister’s forbear- 
ance in overlooking their teasing prank at the 


188 


A Choice of Heroines. 


memorable luncheon by behaving like models 
of decorum upon this occasion, and did not 
so much as tweak the tail of Ermine who, 
snow-white once more, frisked about on the 
grass and chased butterflies, as carefree as 
though she had never in her life masqueraded 
as a blackamoor, or been worried half to death 
by a brace of mischievous lads. 

May and Toosie, who might have been mis- 
taken for two fairy flower-maidens in their 
dainty rose-pink frocks, helped Delia to pass 
the cakes and ices; while Mr. and Mrs. Mar- 
ron gathered bonbons and tropical fruits from 
the magically productive branches of the 
cherry-trees, for the amusement and delecta- 
tion of the schoolgirl guests. 

Miss Langdon was present, and Miss Cars- 
tens, too, for Tessie had made up her mind 
that all old grudges must be forgotten. From 
New York, moreover, had come Aunt Emily 
and grandfather, and now upon the pleasant 
air floated the music of the latter’s flute, to 
which several of the girls danced merrily. 

“ Ma cherie , this is a veritable fete cham- 
petre” said Laura Gaines, ecstatically congrat- 
ulatirfg the young hostess. 

“Why compare it with anything foreign?” 
protested Irene Wier, whose impressions in 
this regard had changed of late. “ What could 
be more charming than a delightful afternoon 
in an American home garden? ” 

“ A happy home garden where flourish 


A Choice of Heroines. 


189 


thoughtfulness, love, and the kindliest hos- 
pitality,” added Mary Renwick. 

“ Bravo, Mary! I heartily indorse the sen- 
timent,” cried Emily Carrington, applauding. 

“ Really, Tessie, I have not had such a 
good time since the aboriginal Tea Party. 
Have you heard from Wopsiewahwah ? ” 

“ Poor Wopsie,” answered Tessie gently. 
“ Yes, I had a letter from her this morning; 
she is going West with her father, but hopes 
to come back to school next year.” 

As though by a tacit understanding no one 
mentioned the name of la Signorina. The 
only allusion to the drama enacted at Miss 
Langdon’s during the preceding weeks, was 
made by the irrepressible Emily. 

“ Well,” she said bluntly, turning from one 
to another of the little group of friends : 
“ You may take your choice of heroines, but 
when all is said and done, our own Tessie is 
the heroine for me.” 

“ I? ” stammered Tessie in blank astonish- 
ment, yet laughing at what she was pleased 
to consider the absurdity of the idea. “ Why, 
T am only a prosaic, every-day girl ! ” 

“That may be,” replied Emily teasingly, 
yet maintaining her point. “ But — I put it 
to a vote — is it not the girl with an every-day 
stock of cheerfulness, unselfishness, and pa- 
tience, who is the dearest, sweetest, and best 
girl, after all? ” 

PRINTED BY BENZIQER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 




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